Instead of for you,
This is for me. I’m allowed
to be selfish once in a while.
I’ve been too hung up on you;
my head has been in the clouds.
I haven’t seen my feet or felt the ground,
but I’m in no rush to get back. My head
is light, it feels clear. My transparent
goals are more visible than ever. I can
almost reach them with phantom limbs.
I’m adapted to the air up here, but
I am still not satisfied. The only thing
that stimulates me other than you
is only felt through my soul. The notes
on this bridge—like the one on your back—
serenade me into delusion I don’t want to
wake from. If I could sing forever, my ears
would be heaven’s gates. Rings that wail,
delay and distort, bouncing from wall to
wall before beating my ear drums and
sending my nerves on a six foot wave
adrenaline foaming at the edge
breaking the tangible, dissipating
the mundane, cracking the film of
reality like a rock against a windshield.
It is calling me, I can hear its echo,
seismically en route to plant the seed.
I must listen — this sound I must heed
My destiny lies within my fingertips,
where all my convictions will seep.