hunt

After a clinical exchange, I have realized that I am, yet again, playing by myself. We always enjoy the chase, so much so we forget sometimes how exhausting it feels once we're forced to stop. Now that the prey has disappeared, I feel like perhaps it was a phantom all along -- a spot of sunshine peeking through the branches rather than a quick motion of something alive. As I pluck my arrows from tree barks, my hunger makes another growl at me. I wish I can shoot my desires instead. The thing about desire is, we are free to pursue whatever we want, but we are not free to choose what we want. It's one more blunted arrow tip later, and I'm just tired, and wish I can stave off becoming famished for another day. I wish we weren't this needy. The pathetic beggary of humanity. I wish I can become unchained from it.

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