By lunchtime dreams are hazy, 
But they live and breathe in the night.
I run, my feet heavy slaps on tarmac,
Sweat pours down my back – that part’s real.
I shake, gasping for breath.

The air is cold, yet heat blooms in my cheeks.
I look behind me, eyes searching eyes.
I run and run with no end in sight.
I wake, lungs screaming for panicked air.
I am alone, and somehow, that is scarier.