inspiration

I want to breathe the incredible cold air of freedom. I want to feel the cold hard steel beneath my feet chugging and rolling faster and faster on a metal path. I want the vibrations to take hold and never let go, to feel my own screams blow back to me. 
I want to ride forever. Forever down a straight path into a horizon that is unattainable, so there is no end. That feeling, so free. Hair that had once been restrained free to whip and dance. Tears normally forced to the ground now trail behind me carrying away the mascara that tied me to this materialistic earth. 
With every mile, I want to feel my sadness dissipate, my fears destroyed, my worries forgotten. I want to throw back to the world everything I've been given because I don't need it anymore.
I pray for a thunderstorm; something to wash away this protective slime that I can't seem to scrub off. In great literature and cinema the baptismal scene cleans the hero of past regrets, pains, and fears but comes only after the descent into the underworld; basement perhaps, or even beneath a bridge. I want to taste the rain. I want to hear the thunder. I want the vibrations to take hold and never let go, to feel my own screams blow back at me. I want to go. And never ever turn around.