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Boom-Pound-Suck-Pull-Push-Flow.
1,2,3,4-Stop-restart-1,2,3,4- Stop.
In-Out-Oxygen-Carbon.
Owls-Drawing-Ice-What now?
Boom-Pound-Suck-Pull-Push-Flow.
Travel out, around, and back.
White-Black-Highlighter Yellow.
I want to go home, back to my island.
Foolish me, I can't even remember Spanish.
Beat-Boom-Pound-Throb.
Blood goes and goes in my hearts continous flow.
Running hard- Feet flying southward.
Escape, maybe a trek alone.
Across America, with no one but Milow.
Boom-Pound-Throb-Flow.
Rush past the winds, out racing the speed of guilt.
Don't catch up, forget my scent.
I can feel this phantom of things grappling my ankels, pulling back down.
Boom-Pound-Throb-Stop.
I'm sixteen but I'm fifteen.
I'm fifteen but I'm ten.
I'm ten but I'm Twenty.
Time to grow up again.
Patterns so complex in design.
Why a straight line.
Bending so hard, still one-hundred and eighty degree mark.
Boom.
1,2,3,4.
Pound.
Thrown aganist a wall.
Throb.
Butterflies in the breeze.
Stop.
Snap.
Break don't bend.
Start it all over again.
I'm sixteen but I'm fifteen.
I'm fifteen but I'm ten.
I'm ten but I'm Twenty.
Time to grow up again.
Grow up again.
Again.
Boom-Pound-Throb-Flow.
Close my eyes, ice solid image.
See the bad and the good.
It's like dreams on fire.
Like lavender water.
Like pyscho mothers. . .