There’s a fire in my bones,
and a cacophony of noises in my head.
so,
i run.
Throw on my shoes,
and run.
until my brain is empty,
until I cannot feel anything,
apart from the ringing in,
and ache behind,
my ears.
Until,
All I can hear,
is the uneven RHYTHM
of my feet HITTING the pavement.
A disjointed staccato.
clattering down the otherwise,
hushed streets.
I almost,
run to your house.
But,
I remember you need ‘space.’
And so,
I decide you could probably do without,
my weight,
my frantic,
today.
I run past my childhood home.
it’s small, smaller than I remember.
and my eyes,
are so far back in my head,
I don’t feel real.
the lactic acid building up in my muscles, replaces the fire,
the sound of happy families,
(lucky them)
christmas spirit and all,
displaces the noise,
until I can finally, stop running,
and collapse into the earth, ready to return to ashes, and maybe,
one day,
grow something beautiful out of the remains of my terrified skeleton.
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