Semi-Conscious Fugitive

Prompt: Image and quotation:

“You don’t need to know what you’re escaping from to become a fugitive.” ― Bella Pollen, Midnight Cactus


Night, day, everyday, she was running; running from silhouettes, sounds, blurring images from kaleidoscopic Yesterdays with their harsh voices, impossible expectations.  She was lost in a semi-conscious tunnel, looking for a splinter of light, and realizing she was blind, groping for something like an exit because she could not stop moving.

There’s no place to hide in your mind.  It’s a continuously winding labyrinth that echoes loudly, preventing sleep; no way to know if you’re awake or in an unrelenting timeless nightmare.  She wanted to die, yearned for everything to stop.  Was she crying, she couldn’t tell if there were tears on her cheeks.  Perhaps she should pray again, those pathetic begging prayers which probably insulted the Almighty while searing her with shame.

She felt the bullet strike, impact of the collision as the car went over the embankment, but didn’t know if there was water below or dry boulders.

©Zack & Zelda Jabez/Breathing Shallow Poetry, 2020 ~ All rights reserved.

(150 words/online counter)

Song of Shallow Breathing

This is for Zelda, backstory to blog’s title ~


For want of hope she

Inhales infinitely quiet air

Holds breath against dread

Which creeps into shadowed

Room now ‘n then, now ‘n again—

Lest it rev up to panic she can’t

Bear, for it rips her asunder

Leaves her dismembered

The silent shout within her

Crashes like a cloud too

Burdened with rain, snow

Pelting hail…she squeezes

Eyes tight shut, clenches

Jaw, every muscle, wraps

Invisible hero’s arms

Around herself, and waits

For the music to come, the

Song of Shallow Breathing

Scored by a small child

Caught between two

Worlds, doomed to wear

Skin of ghosts, much

Heavier than one might


©Zack Jabez/Breathing Shallow Poetry, 2020 ~ All rights reserved.

Virus-Desirous (ha’sonnet)

Girl of my heart

She adores me

E’en when world’s dark

Creeps in bleakly

Time shushes past

Love’s rushes last


©Zack Jabez/Breathing Shallow Poetry, 2020 ~ All rights reserved.

Nod to Stephen B, ha’sonnet king at Sorry, Stephen—I had to tweak the final line a wee bit🙂