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Some days my feet itch for the hunt,
my eyes dart wildly in search of your shadow,
my fingers twitch on the bowstrings.

Other days I wonder why
you must race before and I behind--
the silence paralyzes me as you graze, indifferent.

At nights, I used to conjure up
the thought of your pursuit and smile as I fled
but anymore I merely wonder if
I'd rather be hunted or just killed and dead.
©2006-2009 ~Meretrix-Simiorum
:iconmeretrix-simiorum:

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Damn it, damn it, damn it...

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December 26, 2006
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