Pale steam ahead

You can't help who you're falling for

When you just fall

The white cliffs of Cortez

Never seemed that tall

I think I need it all

So find something, fill the time

And I'll know you'll do the same when we climb

Someone's gotta give

Under the thundering night

Someone's gotta live

Like they're livng their whole life

Acknowledge what you have in your hands

Out in the rain

It's alright to walk back

Just not the same as you left

So as far as we go

I follow myself

Paint my face red

My face says "help"

Believing in me

Reason I'm around

What you have in your hands

It's been two hundred and fourteen days since my frontal lobe "fused" and I became responsible and grown-up. One would think that I'd have got used to it by now, it takes the average person 66days to form a habit or routine and I've had 214. I guess I'm not the "average". Whatever the case, that clarion travel bug is starting to re-appear and my brain is bouncing ideas back and forth like a bug trying to escape the sheet netting on a house burning to the ground. Intoxicated with the fumes, the bug is becoming exhausted. This fire is illusive yet fiery in nature. At the core it is blue in color, becoming red hot and lashing out at the colors of my soul. The crackling sounds of my house caving are becoming hard to ignore. It's not derived from unhappiness or mundanity, constant friction of fighting against everyday life. No. It's the fire that's created from embers that are constantly glowing, growing and engrossing all that is life. Wanting to explore. Wanting to learn. Wanting to be wild. 

Wildfire. 

Possibly unstoppable from the get-go, 

When life can't get drier

It's the search flow

To the vast hills

The highest 

To the ample frills

The farthest

To the sunshine shadows

The Regardless.