phantom of man

Wonder how, so much passes through my mind in a day, and I get really excited where my mind starts floating to.  And I go and talk a walk around the office or the neighborhood to give myself a few minutes to indulge these thoughts.  But somehow, when I sit here, all of the spillage manages to come to a halt.  I stop somewhere, between my ecstatic, thinking smile and my typing hands.  I probably stop aware that you're reading.  Aware that you have biases, a history with me or a different stake in this world.  Somehow your machinations, and your dreams interupt mine.

Is the main thing I always have to will myself away from, letting someone else hold me back.  The most intimidating other being the anonymous, indescript one.  I don't give a fuck what a curious friend or intimate thinks.  But a wandering stranger frightens me, stifles me.

The phantom of man, why have you always had a hold on me?