No, No, I won’t rest yet;
Best move on to go on
& get.
To go on
& on
& on.  
I’m running ‘round like
a dog without a bone.

Without reason,
Chasing for
something,
anything,
to become a
part of me.  
To make me whole.

I may have lost my
wit,
& worse my
soul.

As this pilgrimage, has
no end,
no real goal.

I reckon, I indulge
in myself too much,
& everyone else.
Bringing me at odds,
With life or,
whatever all
this **** is.

So, as a prayer,
or
maybe a plea,
Let this temperament
within me come to an end.
I do sincerely,
Wish for
a single
serenity.

No, no, I won’t rest yet;
tho’ I’m out of
breathe,
and I may burn
to less.

I’ll keep running.

Is it to remember?
Is it to forget?