Chase The Skies

You see that man sitting there on that bed, The walls painted beige and creaky wooden floors beneath his feet? His overly long hair falling around him in a cascade of waves, and his eyes stare straight ahead holding no fire. Almost as if the residency is gone from his very being.

That man is me, or what is left.

Now I understand that maybe the fact that we are born not knowing our why isn't keeping us from ourselves, but saving us.

She'd been right in the palm of my hand, then she fell through my fingers like the sand on the California beach.