Stranded at edges, holding onto nothing, got nothing but a few pairs of decent clothes, your scarf, holding on with nothing but a few tree branches, the wind carrying off with madness, outs a fairytale ride, in the rearview mirror is pride, looking at you, mocking you, some sort of biological mistake, unstuck out of certainties, what the ****?  try to give me some sort of detail, and i'll escape down the slide towards my own sanity!  

Oh what? you're mad at me?  fault is in the heart, and fault has to do with who gets caught, fault has to do with the self, fault in law and thought myself

so... what doesn't want to be written?

myself!  it scurries away from me when I least expect it, peter pan would have to sit down scratch his head and think about this one

god ******, shoot it with a bow and arrow!   pin it down and force it to choke up a few lines that actually mean something!!

no no, waste of time, I guess, waste of time