The expedited thrill of my vivid passing, rekindling my soul. The candent pulse of modern anthems, illuminating my presence. The grandeur of the sway, supremacy, and control entrusted with the plastic-crusted metal, noting meanings to life.
I can't wait to drive, to step on the gas pedal, to cut off an old man, to splurge my pay check on getting lost. Another step, distancing myself from infancy and childhood, I take. So I say, 'Wind, gust through my hair! Sun, shine on my skin! Sky, rain on my parade!' I want to drive, I want to get lost in the city, in the farms.. ok maybe not the farms. But I want to go. I just hope, I won't suck.
cutting off the old man? that's so funny! i think the mid-age ladies are scarier.
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