on 5/25/2005 01:59:00 PM
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Wind: Volume 2 to Un-Wind
Another memory. Running on a rainy day. I'm the only one running. Racing traffic and maybe even the trafic lights. Fuckin' gloomy. Any and everyone is there, but it's silent and I just hear the drops pour on me like buckets. Bring it, batch. No one knows where I've been. No one knows where I'm going. Only I do. I run run run to get away for a few hours which is more than enough time to figure out my life.
I want someone to notice me in all honesty, especially since I'm wearing my new blue Adidas soccer socks that looked cool. Now since I have all the cool gear, I don't want to look slow and slacking. . .I want to look heroic. . .damn tight. Cause someone at any moment might look at me and think exactly the opposite of that. . .hah, but it is nice to be noticed even if you just think they are. Vanity. I love to stare at myself practicing my poses in private. Hah. I've been wanting to look heroic like Jesse Owens when he was running in the 1936 Olympics.
But alas it's one of those slow days. . .I'm really trying hard to breathe or catch my breathe. My chest tightens with every step that I can taste my lung. My long blue soccer socks are getting more uncomfortable and stupid, not to mention heavy. I really don't want to stop.stop.stop.stop.stop.stop.stop.stop.stop.DAMNIT. Panting, panting, humped over and now walking off. This is what I get for being vain.
As in I the vein that I can run the blood out of my heart, but I don't know if I even have one.
Labels: Who Am I?