running

the hard rhythm of footsteps and wheeze. To run, to run with the sun as shelter and the cold burning in the lungs like a bonfire. The prey is unaware of exhaustion and won’t stop. Pupils widen, reaching the goal means destroying the hunger. I chase relentless urged by the sole promise, the only direction, of flesh and rest. I run harder. I’m so close, I can almost taste. 

black ice by david guijosa

Suddenly, a question crosses my mind -a totally inappropriate pause-, but I’m able to hold it back and it’s never stated; anyhow this is enough to distract me for a few seconds and lose sight of the prey. I clench my teeth, these are valuable seconds. I stand still. I shake my head. I close my eyes. I’m able to stop thinking.
When I leave home this is what I do: lurk with frozen breath in the snow, exchanging one life for another. I find the trail