I surely cannot keep living like this.
Daily routines are shattered by dreams of screams
Echoing like those off a mountaintop
Not triumphant
But longing to keep climbing--
Always keep climbing.
I want to howl and scream and kick and jump
off the rooftops
of Cleveland, Chicago, Tempe, everywhere;
I want to lick sunshine acid from
fingers and cheeks and mouths;
I want to go on a spiritual journey
with strangers
And run.
Whether it is through dirt paths or city streets
it does not matter
For continue running we shall.
Because I know that if I stay
in this apartment, this building,
this block among identical blocks
that can only truly be understood
by the all-seeing eyes of a plane,
I will surely perish long before I die.

What would you risk
for the sake of adventure?
Gold eyes beckoning,
"Follow me down,
we'll be free."

But is this what freedom
looks like, tastes like--
Feels like?
Why can I still not
sleep at night?

That ache to run
will run me to the grave.

You keep asking what I want
But do you really want to know?
I want the stars in the skies
I want the stars in your eyes
I want the thoughts you push through your mind
that help you not to cry.
I want you.
I don't want you.
I want to do
Something that makes you see
I'm not the person that you see
The person that I ought to be
And these are the thoughts I push through my mind
that help me try to cry
On the nights I feel I deserve it.
I want you, I need you, I long for you, have to have you.
I don't want you.
"I love you" are the words silently whispered to his neck
But suddenly my arms are wrapped around your chest instead
Lulling you to sleep
Forcing me to try to speak
All these words to you because
You want to know, don't want to know
I want you.
I don't want you.

"Come on. It's not that bad."
A hand reaches out of the darkness.
The urgency in his voice encourages me to grasp it.
Panoramic city view hits at full force.
Our eyes meet.
His pupils are so dilated I can no longer see the clear, calming blue.
Another wave comes on as I turn around.
The roof pulses.
The stars swirl.
A look back hungers for a connection that is not met.
He is absorbed by his own mind.
Foot over foot.
Step over step.
Curiosity over fear.
Six stories down, the path continues on.
Impulses form, gather, consume--
The Call of the Void.
His screams are the last beautiful noises to fill my ears.
Or maybe they're my own.