I Would Love To Write A Mystery

You Never Forget About Things You've Done That You Know You Shouldn't Have Done. They Hang Around Your Mind, Linger Like A Thief Casing A Joint For A Future Job. You See Them There, Dramatically Lurking Nearby In Striped Monochrome, Leaping Behind Postboxes As Soon As Your Head Whips Around To Confront Them. Or It's A Familiar Face In A Crowd That You Glimpse But Then Lose Sight Of. An Annoying Where's Wally? Forever Locked Away And Hidden In Every Thought In Your Conscience. The Bad Thing That You Did, Always There To Let You Know.

What If We Knew What Tomorrow Would Bring? Would We Fix It? Could We?

Hundreds Of Butts In Piles On The Ground To Mark The Spot, Their Lives Sucked Out Of Them By Their Users In Panicked Distressed Frenzy, Their Souls Floating Around The Insides Of Lungs While Their Outsides Were Dropped, Stamped On And Deserted

Anyway, It Doesn't Matter How Much, How Often, Or How Closely You Keep An Eye On Things Because You Can't Control It. Sometimes Things And People Just Go. Just Like That.

Sometimes We Have Absolutely No Idea Where We Are, We Need The Smallest Clue To Show Us Where To Begin.