From the water, far off I am.

I am so far from home. Surrounded by dirt, drama queens, and ass hats. I failed myself and traded momentum for alliance with liars. I failed myself and lost track of my one true objective. Now I'm paid by the toil of the evil. Entangled with the tendrils of the foundation-less. Stuck in a humid sea of dirt and baking. Working in the zombie core of a dead body draped in man made covering, long ago stained and spotted.

You liars, having no hindsight, lack foresight, and judge from a place of ignorance!

These local hills thick with the stench of proud gainsayers.

Now, my only fight is me. And an angry one it is, questioning my search for just one set of arms. Just one. And just time to time. For missing something has a way of seeking out things which aren't always needed. Embrace without entanglement. Care without commitment. Intimacy without the promise of tomorrow. All the other moments of my late summer strafing the corners of quest and objective, flavored liberally with pleasant sonic disturbance, air time, and velocity.

But even in that is the beginning of the end. The potential of leaving controllled flight. For NOBODY is honest, even in something requiring so little. And no sensitive heart is capable of giving love without wanting to give more love.