Splattered paint on the pavement, you ran as swiftly as you could catch breaths. Watching slightly behind, you cannot bring yourself to win these races. That smog as cold as ice, treaded mostly into the floor as it pattered from your fleeting memory. I cannot ever recall, did you find the glass in your palm. Maybe it was two folding pins, when you cast out major fields and their cross country fire’s. You were sealed shut, it made for a hundred gasps. A cup of water, it hadn’t ever become known to you now or never. Would that ever envelop your head wound, could you imagine the aroma being too far gone. I imagined you wouldn’t know, it could never possibly be this simple. I’ve known this equation since the beginning, your acquisition of it fears it.
Contribution- Chris Ballenger