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Friday, July 11, 2014

Not Running Away

The moment of freedom.
For a split second it's all
there is
Then the wind is
stretching the skin of my face
arms, legs, body
it sneaks it's way
under my
glasses, stinging
my eys

All I hear is the
pat-pat-pat
of my feet against the soft dirt
the backround sound
comes as a haze
a slurring blur
of twittering crickets,
humming birds and belching
toads
as they
sit on the dampest
leaves, staring into nothing
looking at everything
all at once

The taste in my mouth is of
sweat
and I resist the urge to
clomp my jaw together
to gnaw my tongue raw
To taste that sweet rusty
blood in my mouth

My legs
are pumping, straining, on fire,
hurting, but I
keep going
my arms are pumping
back and forth
creating rhythm
they end with small, tight fists
knuckles white, skin thin

And suddenly
I'm stopping
walking over the uneven path
Taking slow, painful breaths
as my heart
flys out of my
chest with every bump-
bump-bump
Once breathing and thinking
are able to
be done simultaniously
I do it again

I run
away
No,
Towards.

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