Running scared

6.16.13

it's not so imagined, the thing that's chasing me
so I tidy my hands into knives
and take off.
cut and rhythm, 
sweet hymn of reason
for the hyper pulse.
this body seethes when I keep it
from the only thing it knows how to do.
I claim this sympathetic leap
and landing, peerless, scared
to the very center of this autonomous system,
nothing left to do but run,
so I run,
I can run,
I can still run.