Visions that won't let me relax
And won't let me justify the way my heart races
Why does it move so? --
Pushing the blood forward until control
Is just a feeble hope
At the edge of my eye.
On. On. On. The winner's never called
And the only prize appears the respite
When the furious racing squeezes the oxygen
Away from the brain
With the welcoming blackness and quiet of
Oceans roaring their silence into my ears.
Then the feeling of fingers
Pressing and prodding, kneading and needing
Is it imagination that pulls me
From my pants, from my sleep
Bringing me once more
Faster than before
Pushing me unwillingly back into the race.
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