run across the orange shorelines where the greatest empires have fallen,
and kiss the waves of the salty sea in hopes of resting your clumsy pulse and frivolous thoughts.

stretch your legs.
lithe up like a prideful little boy before a rigged game of 'the floor is lava'
and run!

run like your laces will never untie and your loaded veins will never misfire.

run through the realms of yellowing pages you cling to,
full of ball-point metaphors and crisp, eloquent descriptions of the beautiful feelings you've trained yourself to hate along the way.
i beg you to get over-friendly with your paintbrush when we reminisce this time.

run.
full-fledged, snot-nosed, scared-shitless-grinned
sprint!

run to silky cotton bedding drenched in the stench of your maladaptive daydreams;
peppered with layers of insight we've yet to discover,
and two cold pillows
that can never seem to sing your static head to sleep or fully embrace the weight of your bruised shoulders.

run like you can feel for once;
like a curious kid who's never seen a map or compass,
he just zigs and zags through the seemingly endless wildflowers at full speed as he pilots the backyard in pure and sincere bliss.

run to sun-drenched golden fields where the night sky tints itself blue to succumb to its favorite shade of darkness,
and your breath settles low on the tips of the tall grass like the fog growing over a prehistoric low-land,
and the stars twinkle like lake-thrown pebbles about to let you decrypt the gleaming secrets they hold...
and everything comes clear
and cool
and calm.

run free
and fierce
and nameless
like it's the only thing you've ever known,
run until you reach me.