Drapetomania

It tastes of dreams, smells of imagination,
foreseen in the mists of a blurred interpretation.
Vision stretched to the edge of your horizon;
colourblind.

An unstable bridge; shakes, breaks, dances.
Each step a backbone, a handful of chances.
Departure never felt such a real possibility;
focus.

Repetitions in rotation, similar passing clouds.
My mind is up there somewhere.
Inhaling the new;
inhaling the new.

Traipsing, heavy footed, same old shoes,
tired heart, young blood, nothing to lose.
Drops of rain clear my vision, freckles on my hands;
free.

What happened?
Nothing.

Tomorrow?
Everything.