Genetically glad
Genetically sad
I'm running with momentum over scrag and path
My muscles drag me to the destination

Other's pass by me
Other's I pass
All shapes and sizes
All styles and devices

The view from the top is sublime
Body sore from the climb
The town below think we are mad
Me ...I'm genetically glad

loving often feels like running hurdles
but it's endless; there is no specified finish line
you keep jumping hurdles
and you keep running

you brush aside fatigue
you brush aside pride
you burn the desire to quit

you don't stop running.
that's what love is:
running endless hurdles.

i lift my shoulders and hunch my back
don't look at me don't look at me don't look at me
walking faster, heart racing, i feel the presence getting closer
leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone
i break into a futile sprint

it's not as though i can speak
tell it to leave my sight
tell it i have nothing left for it to take
hope it believes me
while i shove the final page of my story deeper into my pocket

i know better than to lie to this thing
my legs are growing heavy as i try to outpace it
but it's no use
an experienced hunter, the creature waits for me to exhaust myself running from it, then moves in for the ****
at least there, i have the last laugh-
i have already died from fear

/Seven start the running
at the shot of a gun
one faulted behind
six continue to run
six kept the running
till another starts to stall
tripping over shoelace
two clambered to a fall
four kept the running
four running strong
come the first hurdle
three running on
three kept the running
till a cramp came along
two kept the running
two going strong
just one look behind
cost one the finish line
one kept the running
past the cheer and cries
one kept the running
only one won the prize

I'm running.
I'm running out of patience
I'm running out of time
I'm running from myself
And All I do is cry.
I'm running on empty
I'm on autopilot now
Breathing has become a labor
And I just don't know how.
This pressure is so suffocating
I can't seem to smile
I just want to run
To Get away for a while.
But these chains, they bind me here
I can't let them down
But I can't save myself
I need you now.
This emptiness is killing me
I don't know where to turn
And so I'll run into the sun
And Away my soul will burn.

We run through golden drops of sunlight
with reminders tied around our wrists
memories in baskets of woven wind
Tomorrow chases us
as we chase yesterday
The synchronicity of our steps
becomes the rhythm of time
lost in the streets of reality
while navigating maps of wonder
our lives are repelling forces
that now face the immobility
of our desire for freedom
so what's left? Besides you
running toward this morning sky
and me, sinking in a shallow sea
of words and puzzles, that time built for
you and I

Running at night
Guided by a torso mounted light
Stepping from the the pavement
Into the darkness

Into the wood
Scanning the forest floor
Looking to avoid the trip
Looking to find the way out

UFO lights turn out to be neon lit dogs
Jumping up steps, jumping over logs
The full moon provides more light
To guide me into sight

Cool air hugs my legs and face
Warm sweat heats my torso
The dark park is silent now
I smile as moisture drips from my brow

Tornado sirens’ firin’
Gives your runnin’ shoes the news
That stay’n inside is such a slide
To be fit you pay your dues

Feel the ground a-poundin’
’Neath those skies of green so mean
Inclement weather lives forever
But you will quit, like a machine

Slanted rain’s a pain
Soaks you to your skin so thin
In this world, so brave unfurled
Only bright for those who win

You get no bornin’ warnin’
Of the times to come so glum
’Tis a mission for magician
Strike with lightning, then succumb

They tell us to see the sun in the winter
get your gun to get your dinner
there's only one who can be winner
so have fun as a sinner.

A ******* bullpit
echoes the bully pulpit
cracking a bullwhip
as a cruel gift.

There's a royal decree
in the soil we seed
wearing oily greaves
we boil and bleed.

The pinniped's frigid bed
dwindled when the cynic said
his withered glen is more important than
the arctic shed and hearts that bled.

The highlands seem endearing
when islands are disappearing
and the godmen are hearing
no reasons to be weary.

Some run to the hills
some run to the pills
others turn to the thrill
of the blood we spill.

Our only answer is running
from our controller's cunning
it's almost like they're hunting
by not solving this one thing.