I live for pleasure
And it bores me.
Out of measure,
I live deplorably.
In all frankness,
I always tell lies.
Reality is a mess
I lately despise.
Why not let go?
Why not fritter away?
Because I may never grow
Lest I see the end of the day.

I want the blistering hot, caked asphalt
to fry my heels as I run,
I want my skin to peel back
and for my bare feet
to form calluses in its place,
I want to run and to keep running
until my knees rust
and my lungs burst.

I want to collapse in the streets alone,
just so I know I can make it
that far.

I have found,
You can endure anything,
If you have to.

At first,
You think that you can’t make it until the next minute,
But,
Suddenly,
The next minute is upon you,
            then the next,
                     and the next.

At an agonizingly slow rate,
Those minutes will turn into years.

This is how you survive.