When the hounds are close behind, life drains away. That's the thing. They don't have to catch you. Each gasp for air and drop of sweat is like a tooth in the jugular. Madness, barking and howling, claws away your mind. When the hounds are at your heels you kill yourself. Better to lay down. They don't have to catch you, they just have to run you to death. Better to lay down, or turn and rush them. Maybe you'll get in a lucky shot. When the hounds are on your trail running is dying.
« The Dead | Main | Head in the Clouds »
December 06, 2005
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Hello Scott:)
Wish it were so easy to lay down and pretend(?) dead. But, when the hounds are close behind, one RUNS. BTW, I definitely (or is defiantly?) prefer your cogito posts, they're much sweeter, softer...
Posted by: Shankari | December 06, 2005 at 11:44
I like both of your styles of writing...they both strike a chord...harmony requires light and dark...yin and yang. Keep up the good work and try not to get treed.
Posted by: Belladonna | December 07, 2005 at 12:00
I don't like jogging either.
Posted by: David | December 21, 2005 at 08:53
Oh course if you carried a gun with you....
Posted by: Susan | February 10, 2006 at 12:50