Treadmill

Here I am
Running in place
With legs
That won’t even
Saunter
Along what lines
Provided
By an aimless
Walk
Towards death

Resist
Their certain gait
If inclined
To change directions
When such pace
Is fast
Regardless
Of this route
They may have
Switched

Since engaging
Altered paths
Where no fear
Can stay
Implicit
Through these phrases
Always stuttered
Like my limp
From hindered
Strides

Ever chasing
True relief
Now believing
Words I’ve spoken
Hide those subtle
Trails
Behind them
Leaving empty
Dreams
As gifts

While my racing
Just repeats
Staying put
But still
At motion
Hoping outcomes
May be different
Losing track
Of how I’m
Stuck.

– J. Pigno

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