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.

I will run away
No one will ever catch me
Not even the wind will know
Which way it is that I am blowing.
I will mourn old lovers,
Dance with my drunken demons
Retching familiar promises
Once told between the thin blankets
Of a great green mountain generous moon.
I'll stash these memories
Under that bridge we loved in Salt Lake City,
Remember?
The one that kept us dry when it seemed
Like the earth just wouldn’t cut us a break.
I'll hide this ragged heart
In no man's mountain.
I'll strip this skin,
Peel gingerly back from these
Sun bleached bones,
I will be trampled by interstate stallions.
My body mangled,
Tossed to the side,
Forgotten.
That is what it takes to become untouchable.

A busy city with busy people
With dreams and aspirations crammed into 22 sq. miles
The restless hustle and blaring horns
People looking for a life reborn

Keeping their eyes low and walking fast
Cars that always slam on the gas
Every street has a different story, and every story has a different listener.
A tiny world of its own,
But the city keeps getting bigger.

Returning to my routine
And missing the place I'd rather be,
Day in and day out doing the same thing
After moments have become distant memories.

The place I will one day live, won't sit and wait for me,
But I still dream of New York City as the place I want to be.

I wonder how a dead can travel
but I’m feeling you
All along my journey

Traveling from Asia to Europe,
I’ve always felt you in the clouds
Sometimes, in an train compartment
In the wind in Trieste,
And then saw you
Touch the sea, la mala

but I did not who you are
Until I found myself following two figures
Strolling off into the sunset

It’s easy to say it is making me who I am
But hard to live on an emptiness,
On a lost memory.
Hence, I refuse to understand the language
that only delivers solitude.

Coffee cup caught my tear
That actually did not come out
My pen shakes with its emotions
And this is how I’m accepting the reality
-quiet reflection of a lost life

BOARDING COMPLETEDー
Nostalgia hurts (intense & pleasant)
Memories sparkle and fade away