Wild
It's quiet when I start to regain consciousness and I wonder if I'm dead. I've never been in a place that's been this quiet before. Back home there was always the sounds of the road. The house sat so close to the state route, sometimes semis would cause the piece of s**t shack to shake. There were times, when I'd get a hair up my ass and take off on my bike, that I would sleep on the streets. Never fully asleep, it wasn't safe to let slumber take you into its depths. As quick as you allowed your body to relax, someone would be there stealing what was rightfully yours. Then my grandpa died and I never heard peace again. Always his words of what I should have done with my life rang in my ears. But this? This is peace and quiet. Surely you can only get that when you've reached the other
