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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