Feeling low on life but these faded interstate signs
keep insisting
that the next rest stop is only getting farther away:
miles adding to miles
an inverse relationship to determination.

it seems--it is--stupid
to keep walking in the wrong direction
knowingly
but that's the problem when you stick with a thing for too long
there are thoughts that start to gather themselves
finding power in repetition

"I've come this far: might as well just
finish it out."

I freeze at night and burn by the sun,
stubbornly marching onwards, away and on.
Justification in that, it might not be worth it to retrace those travelled steps,
accomplishments I was once so proud of

when I'm not above passing out on the side of the road.