running

the road of the future
looms ominously ahead
backed into a corner,
with no where to go,
choppy waves licking at her toes,
the breath of the hounds
warm on her neck,
there is an edge ahead,
the unknown,
her breaths
1 2 1 2 1 2 1 2
twelve and one, the clock strikes two
blisters popping in tune,
the chimes of death sounds
the warm breath on her neck,
rocks skids behind her
and the waves grow nearer,
threaten to swallow her whole

and the chasm looms ahead

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