Running: Spoken Word

Step after step pounds the rough barren pavement.

Each one resounds in a loud bang like fireworks.

I pass them quickly, a place replacement

They hide in the piano.  Silently, they lurk.

Faster and farther I go I feel enlightened, lighter, stronger,

Hercules molded out of clay and gold

Prized strength and bravery.

I hum to the melody of my piano

Beside the road, inside my soul.

A symphony to my ears.

I am a mess.  I wake up with blankets on the floor

Mismatch of too big too small clothes cling to me

An abundance of pens and pencils leafed through a shortage of papers.

Too many carbs, not enough veggies on my plate

And my room is something from the devil’s closet. 

But when I run, I feel like everything matches,

Everything is orderly.  Everything is meshed together perfectly. 

I train for the race that is coming closer and seemingly more

It’s for my mindset I run out into the sunset

To catch the leaders.  I step forward

So my body has a destination to journey to

And my friends, teammates, family follow along beside me. 

I race because I know it’s the only thing that lets me

Cry solitude, stay sane, escape.  I run away from darkness.

I run away from the illusions that plagued

My soul is a broken piano, playing the tunes of a fantasy world.

The illusions play me, my soul, the sheet music in front of them to

Enact a story before my eyes that leave me catatonic

To the melody.  The bass clef ensnares me to the beat of the low octave

As treble comes closer to me.  The ones who I call friends, family, strangers

Beat me with the long end of the quarter notes,

Trap me in the staffs and speak

In shrill, high keys.

I am worthless, weak,

A coward.  I am not loved.

They torture me with off-key notes

And push me off into the wild, unwritten pieces to be eaten or burned

And my cries for help, to stop only fuel their pleasure.

But I tell them to keep going because

In a sick fascination I did not enjoy them

But I felt addicted to the music, I needed them, I craved them.

The beating coming from the brass chords

Beneath the lid of the piano painted with my cries of despair

Made me complete, I exalted grace and glory and pain and emptiness.

And finally my screams pierce the heavens and break the piano.

My first foot forward cuts on the broken glass and wooden splinters.

And the faster, farther they move, the more the pain goes away.

I run to shut their music out.  I run so they do not play my piano anymore.

They’re not strong enough to hurt me or fast enough to chase me.

I run to play my own music,

My heart beats to the repeat-peat-peat of my steps

My arms swing with the metronome of the 4/4^th signature

Speeding on the course to the end.

I sprint across the finish line.

The piano has been abandoned.

The piano has been repaired.

And a masterpiece has been born.