nightmare

stampede
into the arms
and backass out
life and death
in hypersense
a grid of squares
black and white
sharp scissor
jagged terror
ripped and shredded
slice of nightmare
you’re dead
unless you know.
with the last
shaving of metal
he removed the
bar and leaping
out he stood
beneath the gibbous
moon free for
the first time
in thirty years
ducking and slipping
furtive flipping
on the edge
on the verge
of the village
he lived to be
an old man
of twenty three