Runaway

Endless lines of intricate words
fly on and on like a typewriter
in my head - click-clack,
no melody, rhythm or design.

Teleported - whizzing words,
insanity on the edge
blowing clouds through
my ears,
eyes bulging bright blue,
alive,
electrified,
fried.

Prickly cold arms - hair on end.
Thudded breath - wheezing breeze.
Curled claws of fingers shut
over ears.
The train runs on its seamless
tracks echoing in and out of valleys,
tunnels,
hills.

by Ellen O.

(Poem published with permission. Image original work by AlmightyMelon.)