i hope my words are strange and wondrous,

like kisses that quiet all things superfluous,

so that we can all stop and

listen

a successful frolic means the insides of me are colored rhythmic and blue.

this is a part of me i am reluctant to share,

hours spent at home listening to everything,

finding that out there in the world is a language transcending beyond words,

come to resonate within the deepest recesses of the heart.

i have dug deep, and searched far, and woven for myself another smile.

the truth is,

i have been restless of late,

plagued by a desire to get out,

to shed some skin.

i have grown dissatisfied of late,

with my reflection and the quiet

soul murmurs.

i have been looking to change the rhythm of my step,

to adjust the angle of my gaze,

to shake up the tension in my shoulders

and refocus what my eyes reveal.

there is a quiet fire,

but it is growing.

these bindings they are too tight,

your expectations they are stifling,

the wild thing within me is ready

to shake its fist and growl

at those who look to take and not expect

to walk with me all the way.

the irony being:

now that i have said it,

the only way i know how.

in my verbalizing of desire,

of anger, and frustration

the fire flames once, twice

and then it retreats, into itself

into the hearth of the heart

to cast its steady glow on the funeral

of the wild thing within.

and when the fire goes out,

amongst the ashes there will be a stirring,

whilst i watch and wait

as the wild thing stretches and yawns,

before unfurling itself again to make its dissatisfied noise.

there is no taming this one.