16.

I've been a circular emotional machine,
my feet legs hovering out the window
flying ecstatic away to tree topped
cloud patches
a smile. perfection. bliss. explosion.
and then I'm shaking because I'm crying
because I'm fucking freaking out that
Woody doesn't say he loves me.
He holds me as I silent scream
until it passes.
I imagine the music in the branches, the
smoke dances around the car.
I see sharp things ready to pierce me
when I eyes close.
Dreams of tsunamis, rock matter, playing
soccer on swings.
I am. Many things.
Your consciousness is everything you are.