hung over in the backseat
of a Nissan with heat too high
and I can never just go with the flow.
what's the mission
is my mission,
even when my eyes are closed.
I want to know
where we are going
and why all the time.
despite the delirium tremens,
I must carry on,
maybe take down my guard.
a stranger in the bold north,
I feel like carrion,
and Sam is right, I am wrong.