Rambunctious

Cliche junk. Blahblahblah.

Let's be catalysts
for each other's
spike in Animation.
Not that we need one,
but it works for me
if it works for you.
With every andrenaline-coated,
raucous laugh, I love
everything a little more.
My dirty socks.
The stale, invasive smell of cigarettes
nesting in our clothes.
Your dark lashes.
We're overtly overly ambitious.
Amphetamines hit the ground
running, miles along miles
Of nerves and blood flow.

Am I too nervous?
You shake against me.
Am I too nervous?
I fidget in silent response.
Or is it this strange,
new feeling of holding
hands without awkward
silences?