I feel as if I lost this gigantic piece of myself in the storm drain,
sifting through gunk and garbarge you can see an enormous
chunk of skin and self left over.
It's been cut from my side and from some of my head,
and the odd thing is, if I remember correctly, I was the on holding the axe.
A small little axe like the one everyone has hidden in their pockets and their backpacks and for the creative ones, on their chests.
I feel as if..I lost what I lost because I'd decided to keep it,
and when decisions are made, others are still straddling the line and every decision affects the other.
So. I had fifty decisions
and only one that I could see clearly enough to work out an outline that made some sense and had some flair.
And the hole in my head has grown teeth and lips and a tongue and it's screaming,
"Make me younger!
Make me younger!"
in a voice that seems all too familiar.
All too, as in the same.
But awakened from reality, it's not so hard to realize that smaller things are versions of larger.
I have smaller fish to fry, though.
I have something to gain.