creatures of habit

i play with fire
expecting invincibility
but every time i wind up with more burns...
you'd think i'd learn.


funny how we keep coming back to places we shouldn't be caught dead in; to people we swore we'd never open up to again; to thoughts that haunted us--once, twice...a thousand times--in the dark when everyone else was asleep.

and really, the phrase "coming back" is a bit too mild.  let me be frank: we run, at breakneck speed, as if these habits signify more than just imaginary needs, happy endings only found in a fairy tale or Disney movie, security blankets made of the finest, thinnest air.

we run...as if we actually couldn't go on without them.