I crave adventure,
like the birds crave the breeze.
I seek excitement,
like rampant waters streaming beneath my feet.

I wish to run,
where men do not run,
but wild animals do.
I wish to see from the sky,
or from deep in the rushing blue.

I ponder the rocks beneath my feet,
and the sails that cross the sea
and the trees that sway so free
and the birds that always sing.

I love the excitement,
and grandeur of its flow.
This world's own spirit tells me
to go. So, I'll go,

And I'll swim,
And I'll run,
And I'll fly,
For the sake of adventure,
For the sake of life.

Your windowed soul
speaks leagues of numbered
tears as your heart beats beats beats,
and the tint of your eyes
shows the truth of your lies,
every time your half-crooked smile
hides the words that you speak speak speak.

From the right and left,
my phobia attacks me.
Smells of unfamiliarity
and rain in my boots
climb the peaks of my
grand smelling utensil.

I wonder if the woman
sitting next to me has
noticed the smell of my
feet I washed so hastily,
or the body that my soap
didn't meet, or the weak
cologne wrapped around
my neck.

Quite possibly, she can't
smell a thing; her nose
may be too stopped up;
perhaps it isn't listening.

In reality, my senses blind me.
Alone, I cannot smell the
wonderful and horrid odors
of my body.  She stands up
and leaves; I let my mind digress;
however, I am met with the fact
that whoever sits next will
make me face the same
sub-conscious test.