Hiding away in the deepest regions of your road-weary resistance. 
Tears have been shed. And wind-torn revelry has been felt. Metal 
beliefs were drawn on the edge of exposed flesh. Screaming down 
the highway in whatever form of conveyance could safely carry all 
the gathered utterances you made towards a new understanding. 

Kindness has a way of sheltering all that we must feel for 
ourselves. Turbulent transgressions and mistaken identities a
re frequently happened upon on this road. Milestones have a 
way of sinking. Just like dreams have a way of going the other 
way. Deserted thoughts of everything we ever held dear -- swinging 
down the side roads of silence. 

Can we ever begin to draw a moment of solace along this beaten 
terrain? Who was ever brave enough to put such reckless thoughts 
in your head? Kicking all of your misconceived notions squarely 
in the teeth. Finding yourself grasping for a straw that was 
drawn long ago. 

So you find yourself on the side of the road. Fighting the 
elements and showing a bit of leg in order to hitch a ride 
to a mythic place of lights and sleepless nights. Read in 
quartered corners. Summoned in dark recesses. Gone before 
forgotten. The kind of pubescent longing that visits during 
an innocent evening of remembrance. Offering itself in terms 
you'll never quite be able to accept. Disappearing before 
you can fully appreciate. 

Moments were stolen and time was taken advantage of. And 
you've got to stop feeling guilty for all the nothing that 
was left over. Nobody was there to lend a hand. And fewer 
showed up to assist in the wake. But the poets were sure 
there when there was a little ink to spread around. Can 
you ever summon the strength to forget? To cease and desist 
all your longing tendencies to make one more round. 

The following that we all expected to make a big appearance 
must have made a last-minute call to cancel all engagements. 
True to form. Playing it cool. Winding up in a flophouse 
tryst that would normally splash across the morning headlines. 
Forgetting that we're on the cusp of an unforgiving solstice. 
Guess they'll have to wait their turn to hit the big time. 

Iron clad happenstance has taken matters into its own hand. 
Can you understand the honesty of all that is simple. Beyond 
the news of the day. The lines that slip through cracks. The 
shuddering that pays scant attention to the dropping degrees. 
You'd like to know. But you never will. And the band keeps 
playing the same song. What's with that? 

But the two that always seemed to find their way together 
are heading out to the dance floor. You'd think they'd have 
learned by now. Holding hands and kicking up heels like 
they're almost enjoying themselves. Its these types of 
public displays of happiness which will only further the 
hopeless belief that real forms of human allegiance are 
still alive and well. 

What kind of lesson is that to teach our future generations?