Bullet Chaser

Click. Click. pow.

And it’s off, running and soaring as fast as it can through the air. It’s slicing images of oxygen with chemical defiance as it hits my neck.  Before it breaks, it slows to a mile per  2 hours. It’s so slow I blink a few times before seeing it about to strike me. Bang. And there it goes, speeding up and shoots me fat in the neck.

Second spit it hits the bullet releases deadly sensations through out me. Trickling down my toes I am to chase the wind. Running faster than rouge could carry me, I fall in and out of the red zone as I collapse into a bus station. Away I exit into the streets and await for my new dream chasing bullet explosions.

I’ve been hit 8 times before, but this time it’s a new feeling. I’m wounded, but not out. I have two options: die. or run. Off I’m going to race. Through bus stations, streets, cities and states. I don’t know where I’ll end up or what I’ll be doing, but I have a hunch it won’t be the last time I chase bullets.

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