Mark De La Ree

Metal speeding bullets
blaze through the city.

Horns howl.
Crossing signals blare

Red lights flash
My eyes ignite.
My legs explode

I’m sprinting for the tracks.
Oh yes. I always find the tracks.

Seconds pass
Skin erupts
Red mist
Paints the air.

Tattered clothes
That never fit
Tear in to pieces like
Shattered bones.

I’ve been around the block.
This don’t even hurt.
The carcass
The spirit
Always reform stronger than before.

That’s the old life
This is now.
I’m retired
Then you came inside my house
You slept on the couch.

When I awoke I didn’t even notice
All the tracks that stained my kitchen

You made it to the bed.
There is more tracks than floor
Finally, I see Them.
Hell I must have always.

It’s too late regardless.

Hit me.
I want you to hit me.

Cacophony of the senses
Lights, sounds.
Whistles blow
Pupils dilate.
Blood rushes
It’s so close

No eruption.
I’m still here.
People burn inside the carriage
Others crawl out of the wreckage
They can hardly breathe.

I should have moved.

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