Midnight is a
blossoming
apocalypse
in the forest
of your mind.
Each gravelly
tree trunk,
scarred deep
with ancient
happiness,
is blind to
your touch.
Foot by foot
your feet catch
each muddy
sinkhole along
the unending path.
Your eyes gasp
for a light
that no
longer exists
until you doubt
it ever once
existed
and stop
trying
to catch
it in your
breaths.
Step by step
the suckling
ground perversely
puckers around
your ankles
and knees
in an attempt
to swallow you.
You slog beyond
the point of fatigue
towards a horizon
that has always
held the lead.
This journey has
taken more muscle
than you can muster
and more will than
you thought was welled
up inside of you.
There is the heartbeat
of a beast in your wake,
or so you think.
There is the heartbeat
of a beast you need
to escape,
or so you think.
There is the heartbeat
of a beast thundering
in your breast,
each undulation
causing you to not
give up on yourself,
your miraculous self,
as you search
for daybreak
once again.