my head is up my arse

There are too many James's! I should know which Iacobus I am walking over these leaf strewn paths towards? It's James Zebedee bouncing on his joyous spring through the woods, still in the mist... It's not James the Just.

So many ghosts in my mind pulling and pushing me away from the clarity which is always present. Prejudice is one such conceit. I simply want to let them be, but something projects all my hatreds onto something I have created: these images are pictures I have made to imprison my mind. Part of the walking was always to kill this irritating being totally. I get overtaken by it in so many instances.