I find my self at a crossroads. Which is funny because I didn’t think we developed this place to have roads that crossed. That would require a lot of planning or none at all and we are not good at either. And yes, I know what I called my self. Damn it, I am sticking to it. It’s the only thing I have any control over, if you can call this control. The self is a rotten companion to rely up[on most days. Lies like a dog. Anyway, back the roads that cross. Looking both ways, hoping someone, well, you might be there. I wish I knew what I would say to you. But I do not. Our dialogue is always so dialed in. I am not quite sure what I am thinking lately. It is without hesitation that I move forward, but where I am going I do not know. I have been off the road for quite some time now. I gather resources on these little adventures. But I do find that I am gathering the same material over and over again. I do trim the fat from time to time, but I pack on the pounds right away and get back into my proper skin in due time. I do I do I do. I am not the same as the man I once was. He is dead and I have taken his skin. Who I fool is to my own desires, but I feel the skin is so much tighter than I had dreamed it to be, I flap my wings yet arms fall to my side. I scream at the stop of my lungs and laughter echoes. I look in the mirror and do not recognize the person before me. I will try again tomorrow, but tomorrow may find me lying on the ground. There is a hole with my name beside it. I will be in a million little pieces on the day I die, but the hole will be deep.