yesterday .....

it is night. i am hurtling silently toward possibility. it licks my eyelids every time i blink. i am travelling, open hearted, towards the unknown - the comfort of an old pair of jeans fading, blurring in my rearview mirror.

i am in the present, haunted by yesterday and tomorrow, the murmur of possibility droning incessantly, creeping between the fear, the disappointment i carry with me.

i have left it behind. it burns with apathy, with disregard for what could be, with the fires of chaos, confusion, misguided anger ..... with my blood.

home has been invaded by the kind of madness only stupidity can bring. i can only go forward. my backward glances are only to see how far i have travelled. i look forward and dream. i can only dream, because without dreams, what else is there to believe in? to follow? to pursue?

i had followed the chosen path, and failed. 'pick yourself up', my father always says. i have picked myself up and fled. i don't think that is what he meant but it is done. once you jump, there is no stopping.

it is night and i am driving in silence, being carried forward. forward ever, backward never, damned are those who hold us back, tie us down.

it is night and i am hurtling silently toward possibility.............