How they corner and break us

The claustrophobic holding, waiting, attention contracted in each creak and sound, the bending forward, the ache and burning, the way the mind races forward trying to know every single aspect of the feeling of despair, the fear, the grief, the strength of certainty that there is a limit, a breaking point, though it remains unclear whether it is this moment or a distance still, and the lack of distance between the grip of the walls, and the flexing in preparation, the agile made concrete, to pounce to pound to wail on the predators stalking, should they dare reveal themselves, crouched in ready, crouched in hiding, crouched until exhausted… devoured by the encroaching, inevitably consumed by it all… so that maybe when death reveals itself in a uniform, maybe there is at least sky beyond him… maybe beyond the endless terror, there is freedom again.