To Tijuana

Sometimes, I run away.

We call it the rebirthing season
  hot - like stone steps in
              sweltering degrees.
  Yet enlightened like
        midnight chats with friendless fireflies.
And I say- now- I want to go.
  (Go where?)
  They ask, simply to act as
      pathological road blocks to my cause,
And what can I answer?
      In earnest and unrest,
  I want to set it all on fire.
        Hopefully find myself in
            a more peaceful Hell
                      than this.
(And what for?)
    It seems as I reach forward
          for (the right direction)
Every thing else in turn slows -
        (I miss you.)
          They'll say it.
(I miss us.)
        With the tears flowing
    And the further I get away
            the harder it is to turn back.
The more of me that leaves,
            the more I strive to become.

Author's Note

pretty old, but I liked it... be honest.

Reviews

[Piece Of My Life]

wow- pathological road blocks to my cause. *Brilliant*