Sep 8, 2009
I am terribly grateful for the loyalty of a best friend who will brake me on my misdirected momentum. Like the freedom and friendship found in my first car, an 88' blue BMW convertible, his 20 years of honesty and perpetual motion have chauffeured me somewhat safely down the road of my adult childhood. If my journey was a trip playlist it would fall somewhere in the beats of sabotage and david gray. occasionally, my record scratches and the shocking silence of my own desires beat in metric time.
please forgive me if i act a little strange for i know only too well what i do.
So I type in subtle metaphor in an attempt to apologize for the burst of unnecessary flames with which I painfully scorch those that I am meant to love and friends I am meant to trust. I am not certain if this highway is mine or if I need to find another brick road, yet for now I am exhausted and weakened by my recent combustion. A fluid sense of direction may not be had for quite some time.
The reflections of my own choices rest painfully in the air like the last wafting scents of jasmine blooms on a nighttime convertible ride in the final days of summer.