and I ran

it would seem easier to pack up and go.

honestly, I think it’d be easier,
than to lie here and justify
all that needs justifying.

my mind works overtime even when I think
I can’t physically go on anymore.

but these electrons
and those dustmites
all want to find a reason for existence.

and what a life to rationalize
and what a moment to reflect on
and pretend the guilt was somehow
inherited
from my time as a catholic shoemaker.

and is it the forest through the trees
where I ran into and found solitude?
or is it the trees blocking the view
of a forest full of opportunity?