I talk to people everyday involved in some scene; good and evil are but words invented by those that are trapped in scenes. I realize gravity is my only enemy; lonelyness has clutched hands and squeezes you into wronging others. Everybody has to do things to keep themselves occupied: the working ones have their minds on the weekends; victims of the system pack movie theaters; and who and of what sadistic company is he from that has the right to condemn others as trivial?

Who`s fault and who really is to blame for one man carrying a gun? It is impossible that it`s him. On what grounds are the grounds of judgement? I think also that there is not one thing anyplace anywhere that makes any sense. There are only tears, and there is only sorrow – there are no problems.

I have seen what I`ve loved slip away and vanish; I still love what I`ve lost, but to run and try to catch it would be very greedy. For the rest of my life I will never chase a living soul into the prison grasp of my own self love. I can`t believe that I have to hate anybody; and when I do, it`ll be only out of fear, and I`ll know it. I know no answers and no truth for absolutely no soul alive. I will listen to no one who tells me morals. There are no morals, and I dream a lot..

The winds of the North came following me and grew fiercer as the years went by. But I was young, and so I ran and kept running..Forcing me to once again slam the shutters of my eyes, but also me too wondering when they`ll open – much much stronger then anyone whose own eyes are aimed over here at mine.

I am still running I guess, but my road has seen many changes. For I`ve served my time as a refugee; in mental terms and in physical terms. And many a fear has vanished, and many an attitude has fallen, and many a dream has faded. Running, yes.. but stopping for awhile, embracing what I left, and loving it – for I`ve learned by now never to expect what I cannot give to me.

Strength now shines through my window, regaining me and arousing me day by day. From the weariness of walking with ghosts that rose and had risen; from the ruins and remains of the past. Even though I clutched it`s sheet, I was still refused and left confused; for there was nobody there to let me in. Feeling unwanted? No. Unloved? No. I felt nothing, for there was nobody there. I didn`t see no one to want or unwant; to love or not love.

Maybe they`re there, but they won`t let me in…  Mister Bojangles