That feeling—
Night running between tree trunks,
Bark scraping your cheeks—
Before smashing face-first into:
Goosebumps,
   Neck snapped,
      The blood leaks,
That feeling is freedom—
Before you awake unfeeling your body,
Legs useless, mouth drooling dumb,
Welcome! You're one of us now,
The obedient numb.
I can! replaced by May I?
Physical stagnation, ornamental degradation
of the soul: the will dies always
Alone.