Day No. 693: Moving chains under my feet.

Pretty soon, when my bubbles burst, the soles will hurt too much.  My feet burns under the the leather and rubber.  No piggy back ride for me, I am a guy, guys don't get piggy back rides.  We are too heavy.  The things we carry are too heavy.  Lay it down, lay your burden down, and drink in the rivers.  Into the rivers I cleanse my soul, swept by its undertow.  I will never revel in the dream, always dragging the chains, the bind me to the earth.  

This island is not quiet...  as I walk upon the shores... the land is never still, time never ceases to stand still as I open these eyes.  I want to close them and listen to want I want and not what I need.  Oh, saint of the gutters, 
you have gone too soon.  
We don't grow but we change new clothes and we are still the same, 
always chained to this Earth.