There's nowhere I can go.
When the next cataclysmic catastrophe destroys my life.
There is no safe place of sentiment and empathy.
Nothing and no one there to tell me it's ok.
No food.
No kind words.
No favours or luck.
Just.
Struggle.
Just.
Motion forward to somewhere else.
Problem solving myself from here to there.
As it comes.
The future so distant.
All I can imagine.
Is these tired blistered feet.
Walking down some burning asphalt.
My soundtrack the crickets and wild things.
That live beyond the ditch.
Etched in my mind.
Perpetually leaving.