Someone please read me, because my vision is blurring and I can't see it anymore. I remember what the lines used to say; when I was alone, when I was idealistic, when I sprinted through it all, weightless. Age bullies me into submission, pouring out the speed and adding more weight. So today I hold my hand to my head and ask you a favor, a service for the deserving.
My memory is a youth playing tricks on me, making the movie seem real, making me believe the circus was coming back in town. Fingers extend and through the illusion, snudging the smoke figures that dance in still air.
I guess I am just in an old mood today.
I should toss it out and get a new one.

I'm hungry. It comes and it goes. Sometimes it's an immense wave that seems as if it will overtake my breath, my existence if i don't feed it. Sometimes its a small voice in the back of my mind, finger waving, reminding me that "you better do something about this or else!!" I feel both waving equally. I know action is required. I know what I must do, but still I allow this hollowness to remain. Sometimes I feel like I am going to be hungry for the rest of my life and the idea of fulfillment, that carrot waving in front of my face is just a mirage sent to taunt me and keep me running, as Ellison would say. Though that last wave is immensely cynical, aren't humans cynical by nature?
What I always pictured, what I read about in books in my formative years was that this hunger has to be unwavering. Continue on with increasing speed and intensity and it will be satisfied. But it doesn't stop there. Gradual rising, like waves of pleasure; continuing on, despite climax.
You don't always know where that hunger will be sated, but who wants to? The sweetness is the chase. Soon we fall in love with the carrot and when we look behind us, we are amazed at all we have done. Soon we don't even need to be filled anymore for we are now a mechanism that fills.

Slippery slick between days and pages of insecurity. I want every breath to whisper, to shout some truth never heard before, some wisdom I didn't even know I had. I want to use it with a grace that leaves them wondering where I have always been until now. A fully charged first take ran through my mind, madly filling in blanks and gentle intelligences.
But that wicked agony of self defeat knocked down the door, knocking out the wind.
Couldn't blame them, the thieves, for wanting to make sure there was nothing left. I would probably do the same thing in their shoes. Greedy aggressors, take what your hands and mouths can carry. It will recover quicker than you can think of a witty retort.

Music dancing in the background,
an ill noticed show of admiration,
begging our attendance.
But attention is elsewhere.
Young curiosity weaves between our feet
demanding center stage,
meowing for affection.
But we cant look away.
Simmering, boiling, sauteed sustenance
threatens to be overdone if we don't watch.
Still we sigh in each other,
not seeing, choosing to be oblivious,
for a stolen moment
nestled between the two of us.
Comfortable, complete, contagious...