Semi-Conscious Fugitive

Breathing Shallow Poetry

Prompt: Image and quotation:

“You don’t need to know what you’re escaping from to become a fugitive.” ― Bella Pollen, Midnight Cactus

~~‡~~

Night, day, everyday, she was running; running from silhouettes, sounds, blurring images from kaleidoscopic Yesterdays with their harsh voices, impossible expectations.  She was lost in a semi-conscious tunnel, looking for a splinter of light, and realizing she was blind, groping for something like an exit because she could not stop moving.

There’s no place to hide in your mind.  It’s a continuously winding labyrinth that echoes loudly, preventing sleep; no way to know if you’re awake or in an unrelenting timeless nightmare.  She wanted to die, yearned for everything to stop.  Was she crying, she couldn’t tell if there were tears on her cheeks.  Perhaps she should pray again, those pathetic begging prayers which probably insulted the Almighty while searing her with shame.

She felt the bullet strike, impact of…

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