oh ****, a feeling
of foreboding, lusting after my shadow
nipping at my heels, and i hate it
i can't help but curse the ground i walk on
for showing my footprints, because now
this feeling has followed me home
**** cement, **** worn-down road
**** every hard surface
because all i want to do is lie down
mid-stride, in the middle of crossing
i just want to sleep, rip the pounding bass from my ears
and be awash with silence
except i know, logically
that i might die
would it be worth it? somehow i doubt that
but still, it's just that every time i feel this way
all i can think is
stop
drop
and roll, something is on fire
and from within the icy confines of my hard bone structure
comes a voice, saying
oh please, **** cement god
please let it be me