An unending street: a heart without beat,
a lamp without flame, an unsounding bell –
and every door locked, and all windows blocked:
here I ran from the power of Hell.
I saw my demise, fear burned in my eyes,
my tongue choked my breath, my nose flared for air,
my feet scrabbled madly – he almost once had me:
I knew I must flee, but I did not know where.
My pulse crashing harder - all distance seems farther
when the goal is unset, destination unclear –
blood coursing, throbbing, my gasps broke to sobbing,
and my legs carried on through the pure strength of fear.
I pounded a door – just one hit, nothing more –
in vain hope that a rescue was just close at hand,
but I could not wait: the answer too late,
or perhaps never came - the entry stayed banned.
Past darkened churches, up hills and through lurches,
between alleys of garbage, down dimly lit roads,
and the soft, subtle sound of flesh scraping ground
was heard always, in silence, in substance, in codes.
I hammered by, some means caught