Thrill of the Chase

The thrill of the chase.

The thought that maybe, maybe, we’ll get away,

annuls the fear and pain.

Drunk on adrenaline,

and one or two special brew.

A comradely embrace,

to celebrate

getting through another line of perspex,

and terse expressions.

A new found agility courses,

through every

single

sinew

of my ordinarily very clumsy frame.

Submerged in that moment,

in the intricate, changing game.

Suddenly reality returns,

a thundering blow, orders barked in staccato.

And the familiar pinch of cold steel,

Reminds me I am mortal.

The dull ker-clunk of a bolt finding it’s home,

And the escape is over.

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