how many hours will i lose in circles
how many days will suffocate under the weight of my confusion
how many years will i search for the first breath of the dead
how long will i insist that in all my searching i expected to find something

there was never anything here.

still i sigh and ride the night streets
coasting because the wind makes me happy
no destination, no home, no start and no end

i am perfectly balanced; even my ideas are too balanced to reach a verdict

but still i fall

remount

continue pedaling towards a goal i still cannot see


someday i will find understanding.

i sigh again and ride the night
the wind makes me into whatever i want be.
but the drone of the passing lights have long robbed me of my wants.
no destination, no home

no start and no


end