Walking

There is someone I know...hell, this kid had it rough

Never liked by all but the brave

This kid would WALK the deserts kicking rocks cursing at the voice in his head

Then he wakes...the cell phone alarm ring brings him from his bed, blankets, pillows

Routine:

Gather clothes to wear

use bathroom

then an one half hand turn of the left faucet....always hot water

lather, wash, rinse, repeat

dry his body, pay close attention to his hair

brush teeth, gargle, rinse and clothe himself

Travel six footsteps to find his sanity

A black box with headphone wires inching their way to ear pieces

One bud in....hes cool...the day cannot begin without it

Two buds in...there is no world only him and distant voices that drive him insane

Without an end...he removes them and the cracks of open mouths scream

Page numbers and PODS numbered to what seems like infinity

Oh...will they end?

These voices say of what sounds like blur

But a voice interjects it says...pack up

180 to 120 to 60 to a ring of bells

He shuffles to the door to stare at lonely black mountains

Specks of green surrounded by dirt and sand

And this voice on the right demands the voice on the left to just

SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!

The head phones in his ears start to rip apart parts of outside noise

His choice....keep walking and walking...

To the beats of bass drums and whining guitars

He blasts

Rap, Dubstep and Metal

A combination so deadly to ear drums but he does not care

Louder and louder goes the volumes

Reaching upwards of full blast but he does not care

All in hopes to drown out bullies and drama

So he can move from class to class

And with songs blasting rhymes of how they cant shake habits

Or how they just want a happy end to life

No matter how sad

He keeps walking and walking and walking