you know I’m at it again. thinking too much wondering what if. sometimes it feels like torture flirting with thoughts like this. it must be a character defect at the very least a fault to have such an appetite to be in constant withdrawal for things out yonder that the eye cannot see quite possibly even, not meant for me craving the path that remains unexplored perhaps an endless road to travel alone but dependant I am cannot break free from what it is I expect of me seeking refuge I meld with metal and steal and as each mile passes the chain becomes surreal as if there is a chance she temps me time and again my mistress arouses me but never shall we wed