And at some point in time, it was just me, and the dirty red...
dirty red folded in 1/16ths, strapped tight to my forehead. A bandana that has made voyage after voyage. Revolving rainbows strobing in the glare of my half drunken eyes. Somewhere in the experience, I just couldn't help but think, that in these Oxford streets, I was a King. I had my friends, my health, my laughter, my half empty and luke warm brew. I stood on top of a falling mountain but if for only one second, I was a King.
Look in to the face of any man or any woman and find out who they are and then find out who they were or maybe who they want to become and if you fall in love then turn and walk away. A pretty shitty philosophy but one I always find myself following. Because I don't want to love and not be loved. Probably the abyss of any ship is a long voyage that ends in nothing. No treasure. No amazing discovery. Just sand and palm trees and a parrot who is better off eaten than running his mouth. (Not to glorify pirates, Somalians.) But to take the voyage and find nothing is absolutely the worst.
So i sailed off in a different direction. One where I don't know if the treasure lies, but it would be better to stumble upon the 'X' than search and never find it. And who knows, maybe a treasure once-found will find its way back to me.
dirty red was not retired, but is taking a hiatus. saving energy for the next exploration.
© blake jackson
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