like a sheep with freshy shorn wool.
i held my hopes in my arms like a child.
not too moist, or it will dampen.
circling fresh, pungent air.
making me feel reckless.
driving me to silence.
driving me to talk to strangers.
here...if you have a cigarette lighter...you...are a goddess.
and the world is an oyster ready to be swallowed down.
but we are learning...only now...how to savor it's taste.
we cried in eachother's arms, and in a moment, i was fourteen again, and she knew i loved her.
but i'm starting to think that i didn't quite deal with it...it's still there, hidden away like a big secret on the minds of a room full of people...
i often wonder how children do it...how they get so damaged, and turn out alright...
we took aim for the stars and found peace in the american river...lusted after trees and saw views that for a split second, made me believe in "god".
we chiseled "souza" into rock, and stood proudly as a family.
and for once, i felt as though i owned my identity, and my name seemed to fit me well. and i was no longer afraid of who i am or where i came from.
i experimented with drugs and hoped the world would not be sold by the time i was sober.
like the horses, grazing on dry grass in the meadows.
running free, but still, somehow...caged in.
i am the forest.
tall. strong. everlasting.