I walk the tightrope,
way up In the sky.
Above mountainous fields,
and barren concrete for miles.
Poetic therapy and emotions,
and my reasonable conscience convicting me.
A new buzz to fascinate me.
An alternative shade of steam punk glasses to look through.
A new horizon and vibe to obsess over.
I hop on a slow moving train,
knowing I can hop off at any time,
hoping I can hop off at anytime.
Knowing it will hurt when I hit the ground and roll,
but I've ridden out that pain before.
I sit on a bench by the waters edge,
and watch the raging sea splash at my face.
It's just wind.
It's just water.