Fury.
tears through me
like my spikes tear through the surface.
they leave tiny chunks of track-flesh
and wetness in their wake.

Burning.
again for a sensation
that wrecked me in the past.
it left me broken in two places.
Now I want it back.

Extinguished.
two years ago
on Loyola's maroon track.
a place I haven’t been since
my burning turned smokeless

Succumbing.
To the pull of something
that took me years to shake.
To the neon hurt
that creeps across my flesh

Savage.
is the strategy
that works best for me these days.
I charge the line again
as my muscles scream for air

High.
on my strides
that feel effortless again.
bounding off the curve
where we left each-other last.