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.