I feel it on my skin, the filth of participating in emotion, like a fine film covering every inch me. My being is wobbly and profoundly straying off the walkway. I watch my feet, calculating every step like a drunk on a balance beam. which states, obviously, that all my striving for the straight away is to no avail. For even I,the posterchild of non-being, will stray to the realm of thought and realization, and there my foot will catch. There I will look myself in the opposite eyes to find once again that I know full well what I'm doing. Disoriented, I veer into the street, where the guilt and sadness, the anger and regret, the confusions of life, drive at me wave after wave forming a tunnel in my sub conscience, where the tracks of their tread will linger ever after. the divots left hold a divine message. will I travel these paths within myself, analyzing the signs, taking time to take it in, driving at this road till I find the offshoot that leads me to healing and health, or will I flee down the path leading back to balancing acts. the path I know all to well, where the ruts I've dug up, deep, dark and familiar will drench me and drown me. deceived by my own devices I can only pray I am ready to grow.