And my mind
is filled with dreams,
images of happenings
that will never occur.

Hands are shaking but I know they won't fail.
Stepping up the the line - my sixty mark.
This is nothing like running on a trail.
Different from hitting out of the park.

The run-up looks easy but it's quite hard.
Counting steps to correctly plant the pole.
To pull myself up, my arms must be barred.
My body must have the strength of a troll.

Powerful kick to get to inversion.
The sensation of being upside down
is nasty and takes complete conversion.
I fly up and over the bar and town.

And the difference between me and you:
my parents are proud of the high I do.

Tears rolling down my cheeks
This is not strength
I can do better than this
But sometimes
My heart and mind
Overflow
And I don't say a word
Not wanting to worry you

And I'm drowning in hope
yet ready to be crushed
by the overwhelming sense
of reaching the terrifying surface

And as I begin to sink,
hope turns to despair.
The world turns dark.
I inhale a fresh breath,
ready to start again.

Even on my darker nights
my mind is quiescent,
unable to storm
while silently harboring
blatant thoughts of you.

Pointless.
Arrogant ****.
Have you been plotting?

I surrender my soul.
And receive honest unscrupulous agony.
I'm paralyzed in terrible vindication:

You're a swindling hypocrite.

Your heavy heart is mine to bear,
Constantly shedding blissful tear.
A binding mystery, return the favor.
Feed my soul taste which I savor.

But in a single silent kiss,
I shrink, I shiver, do not miss.
Allowance of doubt comes in swift force.
A stab of pain and convulsive remorse.