i will write myself into sleep.
i am the long distance
runner of words.
one foot before the other.
my lungs full of air.
empty of air.
i am neither in love, or without
love.
i stride towards a finish
line that isn't there.
not a gallop or sprint, but
a weary gate.
i keep at it.
running. writing. alone,
purposely alone,
away from others, but
knowing that
there are those out there
that miraculously care.
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