Out live.

In this time and place
I fade.
Watching, waiting.

To give
only what my work offers,
enough, nothing.

But I cant rush thoughts
and I keep running from something.
You?
Me?

I try to find things to keep me on tract,
I know what I want,
I know this.

Just wish someone would tell me what I need.

The daily inspirations.
where do they come from?
when we choose to erase the time
that lets us be with ourselves.

Always more than enough to run from
so I juggle the impossible
I flounder in mediocrity
and I succeed in the the days that kings are born.