I dreamed of traveling alone.
Booking hotels in the middle of the night,
Emptying out the piggy bank I've used since I was 9,
Packing only 4 pairs of clothes,
And buying a one-way ticket to somewhere.

I dreamed of traveling alone.
Seeing the beauty of each city, of each town, of each country.
Trying out food I've never heard before,
Dancing in the streets with the locals,
And learning the language used in my destination.

I dreamed of traveling alone.
Now I'm in the middle of a street I can't pronounce,
In the 18th city on my diary,
watching people go on with their lives.
I find them so fascinating that I could watch them all day.

But I have to go,
Move on to my next pinned place.
My heart is filled with happiness,
my mind is enchanted with how precious everything is.

I dreamed of traveling alone.
Now I am living my dream,
And I hope this goes on.

Everything for the moment is inexplicable,
I wish I could give you this feeling,
To indulge in these moments of bliss that pass with each smile fleeting pass as the moments that fill the gap between us both.
Empty hands that long for something to grasp,
The air that escapes our lungs presenting it's ****** at the highest peak of the thoughts that occur when you aren't around.
The feel of your name against my tongue,
The thrill of watching the horizon mirror your eyes,
Watching myself in a place I wish I could dwell.
Wishing I could visit at least once or twice.
An all expense vacation to a place I've only dreamt
An early retirement, picturing myself in the hammock of your eyes.
Growing old without a care in the world.
The mist of the ocean cascading down the thought of spending just a moment there, The volcanos that implode inside out just at the thought of you.
Wondering if I could spend the rest of my life there,
Forever more by the bonfire that ignites every stare that connects you and I.
Without need for a passport, why would I venture else where when the place I'd really like to go is right in front of me

Seventy-four miles
To go back to the last place
Where the seven-year-old
Still felt safe

Back before
The depression
And suicide attempts
Where he tried to electrocute,
Poison, and cut his way out

Back before the confusion
And loneliness
The dangerous
Expressions
Of discontent
Back before all that rage

Back before the
Belt, brush, board
Broom, mop, physical
And verbal
Abuse

Back before
The Freddy Krueger
Nightmares

To a place that had changed
Where everything
Just seamed
So much smaller
And all the kids
Had gone so much farther
Away
Only I remained
In that delusional place

Seventy-four miles
To find
You can only go back
In your mind

Here I am in a foreign place
I once knew as home
I've found that roads and places fade away after years and space
From existence, from memory,
Leaves behind an empty tomb

I had dreams last night of lizards,
Birds landing on my fingers.
I leaned that once you know sadness,
It comes at your beckon, your call,
Never too far away from madness.

Slow suicides and honorable lives
Friends from years passed and lovers who turned away
I have found peace buried within
I have found the rest to be not worth the time of day.

In another life and time,
Where you are not gone and I was never trying to be
The sweetest angel on my mind
I hear you in the forest's songs-
The whispers of the wind's serenities

I've gone around the world in my life
seen wonders and monuments
hasn't taken much strife.

The sights and the smells that I've had for myself
and the stories I've heard
I cannot retell.  

I've been greeted by all, sometimes hugged
but always watch your back
'cause once I was mugged.

Today I decided to pack a bag & take a trip,
Although the roads were the same,
I wanted to go somewhere I have never been.
Traveling a highway vast in length can be so mundane,
There are only so many ways you can go in a straight line.
I wanted to go somewhere I've always dreamt,
To partake in sights every time my eyes closed.
Memories that make it seem like I'm still there. Although gone.
Bright lit stars soon kindling the stretch of sun leading the way. 
The complete and utter randomness of your smile.
The spontaneous moments that last forever in the blink of an eye.
A Ferris wheel paused in motion at the very height of it's spin.
At times I feel like I can touch the sky.
This hesitation of a fluttering heart that races in disbelief, that this in fact
is real. That I am floating sitting still. Paying no never mind that I am afraid of heights.
To wear you with every ****** expression that crosses my face.
If I told you about this height of ascension, would breathing still be considered easy.
The entrance to a paradise of thought, just thinking about getting away.
With words unspoken, the mechanisms move,
Thrusting forward in motion. Falling face first into the thought of you,
Learning about you with a deep stare of unspoken motions, the things no one else knows as the sun is replaced by deep shadows.
A devotion to the fire that rests behind your eye.
The end comes so soon, I had just gotten here.
I have to plan another trip soon as I still haven't explored all the sights

her body rusting -
yes, they call me vagabond -
prisoned to wander.

You could have reached here Wednesday by last choice
Perhaps your mood shifted. All the calm nights
you had now lay awake. You explore the city
built by the perfect people, white cathedral
stands upright on a slant, a compass buried in plain sight,
the gibberish of art students from painting lullabies as sirens.
Only children are asleep. The university
grows younger each year. The best teacher
is always late, not realizing her impact.

The person I’m most comfortable with
stays in bed. Security found indoors
the couch allures, security in the capsule,
The deafening whispers, the genuine friends
who live nearby and can’t talk straight. The blessed temple
building worshiped by advertising majors.

The lucid potential, morning sprints round the track,
a library sustained by crushed Adderall —
glowering orbs rotating back counter clockwise,
out of chimneys the black spirits climb,
detectives bicycling, the honor students rummaging
for class notes in the deep end of the dumpster.

So this is college? That frontier plateauing
before you can dive off a cloud? So this utopia
was a dollhouse, the daily on the doormat
camps in the hallway: waits while the child watches
a sit-com?
Don’t apartments stand still? Are abstract paintings
and basketball supposed to nurture a city,
not only Richmond, but also other lonely cities
of misunderstood brunettes, dank **** and dubstep
the weekend will seldom put out
until the city you moved to shuts its eye?

Just tell yourself, “live.” The best teacher, eighteen
when she moved to the university, still grins
even as she coughs out fiberglass. Any day now,
she sings, I’ll take a drive and leave this place.
I pull her close and say. You haven’t slept in your own bed.
The boy who you’ve always loved still thinks about you.
The books you read before breakfast,
whoever the author may be, inspires
and your least favorite student who raises her hand
is judged but her posture never falters.