Sunday, October 11, 2009

Sun-dried vomit. . .

Feet pounding on the pavement-- yeah. A sound I've always relished, the way sneakers smack the pavement and coincide with the thrumming of my heart. Running.

I've always thought of running like a release, and yet I hold it against others. People who run away. I never looked at it. . . from my side. . . how far I run away just to keep a step ahead of all of these horrible, disheartening thoughts.

How far will I get before I realize that I've got nowhere to go, just like all these other losers?

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