The traveler

Of the traveler who loves to travel,
Of the traveler who loves to travel but not to arrive,
Of the traveler who wishes that it would be better if he never lived to see his destination,
Of the traveler who doesn't see his purpose for living and thus wishes he would perish on the road,
Dont ask me about the traveller for i may not know him.
The thoughts of the traveler scare me stiff as i write this but it would be thrilling if i were traveling at this moment that am writing about the traveler.

Whats it to Life?

Is life too serious for me life or am i too serious for life?
Is life too boring for me life or am i too boring for life?
Is there satisfaction in life or is 'satisfaction' just a mouse in this cat n mouse game called life?
A mouse that we (cats) chase till when we breathe our last breath?
or might it be i who looks for it in all the wrong places?
Is there true happiness in life or is it me who always looks at its backside instead of its face?