Posted in nowhere, Poetry

I’m pointing myself nowhere

It is easier following footsteps when the toe prints at the front
Unless you’re quite adept at going backwards,  but I’m not
Backward facing footprints always head to where they’ve been
I could have even traveled there. . . Maybe I  just forgot .

nowhere

I doubt that I will ever pace a path that’s not been trod before
and If ever get there I will surely be surprised.
I might just take a pile of wood and tools to build a door
Then lock the thing behind me. Locked in my own demise.

But knowing how I travel I will probably lose the key
And lock myself in somewhere nobody else will ever go.
Then maybe I will realize the stupidity that’s me.
And likely loose myself to death, and no one else will know.

Bugger Bugger everything, I am staying on the Highway
I have never known quite where I am, plus I’m regularly Lost
I’m better suited more to never  doing things my own way
I’m a go in circles type of guy but I can’t afford the cost.