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Starving
I have monsters on the bottom of my feet.
They starve for the road.
Step by step they gradually devour the asphalt,
It's almost as if I'm a machine, and my fuel is the road.
Legs turning, arms pumping, lungs breathing;
Shoes eating.
Five miles, six miles, seven miles, ten miles.
Consuming each step,
And digesting it all into a moment of endorphine euphoria.
They're full.
