You’ll stay ever vigilant
shoulders squared, knees soft, speak
from the stronghold you pretend to have
There are worlds of wolves and wilds outside you now and inside
chasms
hollows of wind whipping and memories
and if you stop long to catch your breath
your breath, catching
catching on that tiny little
—weak—
part of you that they all see coming
tight in your chest
right on your heels

Hurts If you 
stop

Well … what gets you first?
Either way there’s howling.

Could you fight it? Maybe.
Is it real? That’s a dumb question and I’m not answering it.

And you know the really stupid part?
The last thing you’ll ask yourself? 
As the stage lights go dim and the audience files out, wondering what they just watched and why?
Was it grace or gauche to let yourself rest?
You’ll never think to realize that no one gets out alive.