standing still with the dead

my cold feet hurriedly slap the cool ground. the moon has crested and beams light over acres of ripe harvest. all the fruits of labor. toil. worry. pain. and my back glows with pale light and shaded by husked shadows. the crisp air sinks into my lungs, an icy invasion. pumping in and out of my chest. my muscles burn with acid and my mouth breaks into a smile that explodes across my body like a long forgotten mine. unexpectedly overtaking. it all far behind. i think this is the beauty of control. knowing you escaped the pain cause you lit the match. the infinite game i play against...well... something about beating em to the punch. it's better to have loved and lost as long as you're quite comfortable with losing your damn mind as well. that's all these trees, whipping by, that's all they say. stuck. as fast as i go, my victories are hollow cause my enemy is me and i'm so deeply rooted in myself i can't shake your dirt and my mud free. i'm standing still with the dead.