my new balance running shoes
eat the pavement like dilapidated
dogs trailing a rabbit,
fit for dinner and the plates
are set in the household.
arms flailing heavy at my rotund sides
as these hills pile up ahead of
the convict, escaping from my shackles
in the city...
sirens scream like babies drowning
in their own tears,
and my failing eyes scan the
crime-heavy horizon.
an abandoned car looks perfect,
but as i climb into the backseat
im snatched away from the window
by two sets of hands wrapped around my ankles.
beat with wooden stick like neandrathal females,
im carted off to find myself in
the scarred walls of the jail...
printing my bleeding fingers into
their little black book,
i peer over the counter...
"sign the book kid,"
and as i write my name into their scroll,
signing my life to the system,
i turn the page 6 months later
and find a new me sitting
between the lines of their system...

ok...you got 10 minutes of my time. goodluck. this isnt the most important thing to me right now, so i might not be back next week, or even vote...goodluck anwyay.