runaway train

she tells me,
looking into my eyes,
holding my shoulders,
steadying me, that
my blogging is like
bleeding that can't
be stopped. you are
wounded and the blood
keeps pouring out
like a fountain. i tell
her yup, and what's
your point. she says
take a break. go to
the beach. give your
brain and fingers
a rest. the world won't
end if you just stop
for a few days. i tell
her i can't stop.
i'm a runaway train,
i'm burning all of my
coal and speeding down
the rail without a
destination or a stop.
there is no station,
to pull into. she laughs
and says, this is what
i'm talking about, nutcake.