its an all time
line in the sand.
a prize fighter with
a weak chin. swings
so fast he knocks
himself over.

if i could write the next
great american novel
maybe i could get
some rest. but i do enjoy
the comfort
in knowing
how out of reach it
all feels.

i can finally die
on the highway
while every other
fool like me
gets to ride
the tread in my
wounds.

its always been
about the chase.

dont forget.