THE RUNNER

A whirlwind of ideas

Comes to mind

Each and every

Day,

Think

Think

Think,

While seated on the porch

Smoking a cigarette,

The desire to run away

From this life path

Irks the mind constantly,

It consumes the mind.

Running is the only way possible-

Into a whirlwind of 

Inebriation,

The mind sprints away

From this place,

These people,

All the money needed to survive,

To a place so dark

Gremlins and Sadists

Lurk in the corners,

Waiting to take travelers into

Their care,

Encroached in darkness

Comfort washes over the mind;

A place so dangerous

It feels safe,

A place to run

When all in reality is

Lost in a blurry haze,

There is no turning back

When the wounds run

Deeper than the

Earth’s core.

Bleeding green pus

All over the body,

No one understands

This feeling

Of such abandonment,

Only the one that runs,

For she fears death

Becoming her

If she stays.