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i have often imagined, in the wake of my existence, in the
afterthought of the major happenings of my life, that these hands of
mine are barbed wires, snagging and scarring everything they touch.
how else to make sense of all that has happened? there's been quite a
bit of destruction, the causes of which i have not always been able to
identify. as is my modus operandi, i blame myself. everything has
always been my own shortcomings sabotaging the situation.

but, perhaps, my hands are not barbed wire at all. perhaps i'm simply
a man without skin, and everything i see touches me.

i am not taking the blame for your poor or in decisions anymore. i
will no longer apologize for standing still, standing strong in your
whirl wind trend chase. you play the part of the weathervain if it
suits you, and i'll play the part of windowless tower. we can
coexist.

at least as long as it takes for you to destroy yourself.

ghost