Hide
me quick,
hide,
me fast,
not sure how much longer my freedom
                                                to write
                                                 will last,
they
are after,
my emotions,
they
are after,
my books,
they
are before
me waiting till I fall, tripping over my own feet as I watch out for them
or fall asleep, leaving my door, my mind, my words unlocked,
they will steal them all
if the have their way
they are the Chasers,
they are the (NSA),
they are 1984, 30 years late,
and I am old and slow, but I have 'em
fooled, for I have been
re-tooled...oh and, sorry about the rust.