Work Text:
Running.
I can’t tell you how tired I am of running
Of twirling and whirling on a treadmill of a stage
Of jumping over each hurtle you make
Running.
I’m so tired of running
Of being on time but not having free time
We invent shit to save time
Then we waste more time
I hate wasting time
I keep running.
Hold on, where do I have to be after this?
And you’re definitely sure you have the right time?
Alright, alright, it’s fine. I’m fine. I’m a good runner.
I’m the busiest person I know. But I’m good
I’m good. But I can’t tell you—
Running.
I’m scared that when I get to hell
(and I will go to hell)
They’ll tell me to just keep running
And watch scornfully as I fall to my knees
For something else, anything else.
Please, oh—dear devils, please
I’d take boiling water
Or starvation like Tantalus
But they’ll say “bitch, get running”
If I could tell you…