– running wicked –

Hobble… now at half-

throttle… with these

busted shoes and tired moves ’til

there’s nothing left. I’m

gasping… damn near col-

lasping… you try

a fair pace in this race with a

shortness of breath… yet


in the corner of my eye, I

catch me a cheetah… it’s

cutting corners left and right – I

feel so defeated.

Why even stay in this race

knowing I’ll receive last place?

I’m not perfect, but I try,

yet you understand why I


feel like running wicked sometimes,

dirty through the finish line,

just to relieve my good mind…


nothing good can now surely come

from a hot, hellacious run,

so I’ll keep gasping ’til done.



D.J. Whisenant


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