i keep running

i keep running away from everyone,
the scars on my arms grow more and more and i fear
a time when i no longer have space to accommodate more.

i keep running from myself,
trying not to think myself real
i can't be real,
because if i were real then surely i should feel.

i keep running back to my blades and letting my tears turn to blood,
i keep running back to the voices in  the dark telling me i don't belong and need to leave.

i don't think i want to stop running,
because when i stop running
the madness will end.

I started running again

Because the pain of remaining stagnant

And being flooded with thoughts of you

Is greater than any physical pain

Let me tell you about how I run
There are a couple of ways but none of them are fun.

There's a "move the **** out of my way" kind of run
Shot at by some man with a gun
Running over old ladies and children
To get the hell out and save my own skin
Kind of run...

And there's the "cliche blonde running through my head all day"
Where I don't get exercise, but she seems to sweat away
The pounds of brains until I'm dumbfoundedly dumb
And I find myself passed out on the couch with a bottle of ***
And a headache that makes me want to blow my brains out
Cause I can't get some Aspirin and a good woman to ******* out
Kind of run...

And there's the angsty little man that runs from home
Fighting his abusive dad and his best friend "hormone"
When he gets a kick in the nuts named reality
and a left hook to the face named puberty
by Mike Tyson riding a bison
Who leans over and whispers "you lost the fight son"
Kind of run...

Then there are the times when I run my fingers over the typewriter
Making more mistakes than a single stared wasted waiter
Running my imagination that nobody wants to hear on a page
A ******* that nobody will ever notice on stage
Lost in cut out hearts and origami cranes
and on washed out newspapers on old broken trains
kind of run...

However, there is a time when I actually get off my *** to run
But It hurts cause I'm a beached walrus with my *** in the sun
Flopping on land and trying to swim through concrete
Unable to see that I have 2 feet
cause there are 2 feet of fat that is constricting my view
Of who I am and what I'm really able to do
Kind of run...


And this is the part of the poem when I run away to Spain
Clearly, I can’t run that far so I guess I’ll take a plane
And I’ll bring the beautiful blonde with me in a first class spa
And I’ll walk into Spain saying “Su casa es mi Casa
But it will never be the other way around
Cause if I see you on my property you’ll be six feet underground
Kind of run...

“We’ll play hide and seek” he said
The only thing that she most dread
He hid as usual
This game was brutal
She searched for awhile
Knowing this is going to be her lifestyle
She couldn’t find him this time
This game should be a crime
She didn’t understand what happened this time round
She didn’t understand he didn’t want to be found

what will help cure this madness
this desperate need to flee
I've ran so much some times i don't even know what i'm running from
but i running just as fast as i can
will i ever feel free

I'm tired
Tired of the silent books
Of all the empty looks
Hearts searching for freedom
Brains saying "not today"
Our bodies used to pain
The more we walk
The more we fail
Pretending we don't care
But I know
you're killing your brain
Feeling so close to scream
Go on it's not a shame
Try it this time
Try the one you won't ever say
Lie on the rails
Light a cigarette
Forget about aims
Run till you feel breathless
Now you know the happiness
Without money, pain
Without steps, faith
All you need is to say
"Yes, let's run away."

He calls himself a runaway,
A bandit, a thief, a liar,
But I have seen a sacred place
Trapped inside of him,
And he is just as human
As he claims not to be.

He wanders the backroads at twilight,
Whistling, wondering, waiting,
Watching for a double rainbow;
He’s seen six, and is living for the seventh,
“Another sin,” he’ll say,
And maybe he’ll never find it,
Or perhaps he’ll be released, somehow.