To go back west some day. (tired of the eastern side of the US)

A Man whose roads are always twisted, a man’s world is always crumbling without a way out or up, a frame of mind that’s always in a bind. Why isn’t a question, its more of a matter that won’t go away, it lingers around until the man is too tired to sleep, too tired to care. stumble over time and the walk becomes a march, madness zeros in and makes the worst even less desirable, the world is in darkness so why doesn’t someone open the window and let the light in. Right, this man doesn’t like the light, or not much of it, just enough to be see. this man is without worldly roots, nomad is the end.

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