a cold, dead, white husk
constantly crawling at me,
inch by inch,
and i keep on running.
i gain some distance,
however little, every day.
but when it's time to sleep,
it's back there, getting closer.
is it gaining? falling behind?
the darkness is impenetrable.
inevitably, out of nowhere,
a vice-like grip gets a hold of me.
i punch it in the face
until my knuckles bleed.
but still it hangs on
and i'm dragged under again.
No comments:
Post a Comment