the chase takes us further. away from ourselves. the body, a relentless piston in an engine that's breaking down.
too fast. too slow. there is no measure to this race. too hot. too cold. there is no weather. only heat.
the smallest colors burst open. the littlest lies feast on our pain.
we continue. our staircases thoroughly climbed. our tails amply chased. scratching at the matchsticks that wouldn't ignite.