Moderated

And I thought, "what did you expect? The only way out was through that burning door. Of course you're a little scraped up, but you survived. Now run and play."

I've got the head on a swivel. Just like they told us back in high school. Be on the look out for monsters that are ready and willing to separate your body from your head with a sporting tackle out on the field. I remember vividly the few times I didn't see it coming. It never hurt as badly as I imagined it would, all that time spent living in fear. When I did find myself looking up at the clouds while parents whistled around me, and the game rushed on, there was a certain calm inside of my helmet. "What did you expect? The only way out was through that burning door. Of course you're a little scraped up, but you survived. Now run and play."

I'm back on my feet. Kanye says he's back up on his grind. I'm too white. I'm prancing in Smartwools. Listening to Pretty Lights and planning an escape to the Slope. Safety in lavish heights. Security in a thin coil of nylon, and the miles from authority. Let's let freedom ring, and the cash cow starve. We'll take all we need from the sun and the leaves and Elmer's city owned truck. I can spare the $7 for camping. A cold beer never tastes better than when it washes down chalk and blood.

Back here, I can't speak my mind. Not yet, at least. I've got too many prying eyes, it's Spy vs. Spy. No fake bombs that spit soot and little else. These inflict real injury. There's a reason to filter the smoke through riddle and obscurity. I get it out, they don't take it in. We're all winners here at this elementary school field day. Let that savage pain of attempted excellence blow away into the ethereal ether. I can walk on without the gray waste I might otherwise (and have so successfully) laid bare. I'm no grim reaper, it brings me no joy.

Two dead in Littleton today, I'm not one of them. Thank goodness. I wasn't ready for a domestic dispute to take my life. I couldn't be proud of the epilogue of going out in a Ford, let alone in khakis. There's no grand plan, but whatever strategy I've crafted, it's wildly open ended. No need to write that chapter. Because, after all, I've got that yellow ribbon to caress. Share it with a friend. Slink away into the forest.