\"Thoughts in time and out of season
The Hitchhiker
Stood by the side of the road
And leveled his thumb
In the calm calculus of reason\" ~ Jim Morrison
To crawl from a swamp where mosquitoes, and snakes, and gators abound. Zeig dich! Zeig dich! Reveal yourself in a world bound, to an age drowned in the mires, the unsound - such were the days of a child of fifteen. A turtle crosses the path, but doesn\'t leave. He senses a need for a reprieve from the wrath, from the deep gash of hate scraped across the face of one who did escape. Was it fate? The selfish need that had defaced a youth, and all that he could be. Hate, Hate, Hate! What do you see oh tortoise in my path? What do you feel from a young soul slashed, and slashed, from a cowering creature who longed to live in decency, with scars, deep? A bastard of hate and an unwitting priest whom I never heard preach the values of this age. Who did never reach for one such as me. Oh turtle in the path, alone as am I, what destiny lies ahead of one who was caged, and flayed repeatedly, repeatedly, age, after age, after age? Defeated and broken until that day at fifteen. You crossed my path, but not in wrath. I hid that day, but you stayed ... at the crossroads.