diction

          Consistence of desire would be the only way to describe my physical yearning for the multiple streets lining the coast and the insanity. Each time, my chest feels pushes in with air and my entire torso acquires some sort of bizarre awaiting feeling; not quite hunger, but I can hear my soul salivating to be prominent among the millions of others bouncing on your pavement, laden with deteriorating chewed gum and numerous marks of frustration. Running away would be an option, but with momentous consequences... Therefore, I sit and wait, with the utter persistent hope of once achieving the reality that could come true.