vagabonding around without a second thought for so long that now when I am caught in one place I cease to function or fit into the world of now. destined to be a hermit for once I stop bouncing around and notice that I can’t see clearly if standing still. now all faces are blurry and foreign. just like I am. running out of time. vagabond that is no more. shakles made by years of neglect. yearning to perhaps one day soar once again…