It's strange
How much an object can take you away
From the stress and the pain
When I put that board down
It's like everything fades away
All that is left is the wind in my face
And the feeling in my chest
Like a weight has been lifted
A veil pulled from my eyes
On my board I feel confident
Like I'm on top of the world
It's a liberating feeling and it never grows old

Ahh...the smell of "sweet success,"

Dressed up in bundles of bows,
Point out all of your "faults" and drill the teeth, braces on for years,
It'll make the "biggest difference," you'll be what you're "meant to be,"
Shove these roll models in your face, it's all about these prudent fears,
We've gotta follow suit, be moulded, from day to day, months, years,
Follow the path well followed until you're the "best" at this old game,
It'll be such a sorry path if you choose eccentrics-what *you dream?

**What a shame!

Conjugated amid liberated duality,
     surreptitious catharsis of
        poetic revelations' flip side,
          the underbelly of sentience
  potentially validating perceptions'
          indefinitely extended,
figuratively speaking beyond
      literally unleashed metaphors
             play it backwards, if you dare

To be in my own skin
To feel like myself
You loved me there
C'mon silly
How can a hollow man do that?