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.