Thursday, March 10, 2011


A mile, a mile, a mile a minute –
My thoughts race, rip and run
(Will you stop it
With the radio static already?!).

Wind whips in my face;
My heart begins to race.
The eyes lose their focus
And I become a zombie—

Undead and “about to die,” with
A headache to last a thousand years;
The warmest day turns bitter cold
Within the second. Then—

I come alive again
And I fall to the floor.
My mind comes rushing back
With solemn reflection.

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