Shreded

Dashing against the cold. The trees fall and the earth rises. rain and fire and hate and passion flow into the lights that bear down on me. Stop these lights I command of my surroundings. These lights bring pain, maybe death. A momentary pleasure, an escape from reality. Though I see them looking at me. And her beauty cuts me, it shreds my fantasy, that I have any control, any passion, any earth beneath me or trees beside me. That the lights wouldn't hurt me, because I'm not worth the thrill.