Energy, not blood, pulsing through my veins.
A jittery, imperceptibly vibratory feeling.
Like that awful empty feeling right before you throw up.
Like I've grown wings,
And I'm waiting for my first flying lesson.
Just longing to soar above the clouds...
Above the world.
Like someone drained a scalding cup of soup
Down my throat.
It doesn't want to stay in my stomach.
And it doesn't want to come into my mouth.
So it's just resting in between.
Remaining scalding hot.
Like and overly hyperactive child
Has captured their energy
In a bottle,
And released it
Into my chest.
Like an unignorable desire to cry
And laugh,
And die,
And jump,
And sing
All at once.
My turn is next.
Anticipation.
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