an arrow that always finds the bullseye knows nothing of the rest of the world
I’ve missed the target so many times
I don’t even bother aiming anymore -- just let it fly
ready, fire, aim
sometimes you just can’t meditate things away
the candle doesn’t burn bright enough
incense doesn't swirl enough
you can’t sit still enough
pictures play in your mind with an annoying soundtrack
you yell cut but it just keeps going
can’t get far enough away
up up and away, away in a manger
or gray scottish castles full of spirits and bagpipes
filling my dreams with echoes off the gray stone walls of my mind
eerie bagpipes sound
ghosts walk the hallways
or I could just walk into the moors
and disappear from it all
