his feet were already numb. he should have listened. they said that running wouldn't get him anywhere; it wouldn't change anything or him. even though his body was number, his mind would never cease to destroy and rebuild itself all over again. he fancied himself a phoenix, but he ignored the burns that were becoming more and more prominent. he ignored the pulling desire to remain ashes, to warm himself in the embers and never again have the burden of a body. he is running, but he is only going from ashes to ashes. its starting to become a lonelier journey, the more his body disappears. they said his bones would crumble and his skin would peel, but that would not change a ******* thing. he'd still be that sorry old pile of ashes, balanced on the border of flames and smoke. everyone told him to set himself on fire. he should have listened.