I am kicking
          Screaming
          Crying
for the tremble of a 48
through evening mountains
set ablaze by thousands of fireflies.
If I could I'd leap from this skin
into the arms of the harsh desert,
I'd let the sun scorch my sagging muscles
and empty veins.
My thumb is aching
for long hours in the middle of nowhere.
My feet beg to dance once more in unknown cities.
I look to the corner of my room,
there lays my empty,blue,mile stained backpack,
pleading with me to find home.