I think of articles of clothing I can't look at anymore.
I think of flavors of ice cream that just shouldn't exist.
I think of a poem with no punctuation.
I think of wasting time till the sun goes down.
I remember the empty bank account that lives alone
I think of wildflowers crowding an open field and forcing all other vegetation out
I think of the peak of a mountain
The furthest point,
The only destination that is worth waiting for
The journey is only minuscule in comparison
It's like the resonating bass, controlling eardrums and cerebral response
The fuel that continues to supply my inadequate wants
The possibility of a thrill,
A dip over the edge
To be reeled back,
And safely secured at base.
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