Running

Dank air infiltrates  

Deep, desperate breaths.

Heartbeat hastening

heavy step after heavy step.

Weakly withering knees,

beneath burgeoning weight.

Fucking, fruitless, frankly

damaging forray into further, faithless futures.

Futures lost within langering, lowly vacuity.

Weakness gives way to tumbling.

Trawling through torrents

Trickling thunderously

through oxymoronic hyperbole that in simile is similarly like a metaphoric, meteoric rise

Which only facilitates the fall, fall

Fall so horrendously hard upon the

grit, grazing and grating the skin

down to the dull, droning ache that caused the faltering fall.

The ligaments lapse

The cartilage cracks

Time breaks,

cars screech to a halt,

not arriving at help,

Arriving at fascination

Driving on beneath the false, flat light of the straining street lamps.

Run over.

Hobble home through pasts so familiar,

despite once being the future you thought you so clearly craved.