A Steeplechase L Poem by Morgan Michaels

I will pass you!
You won't!
I will beat you out!
Don't even think of it.
Out of my way, comrade!
Bloody bloke.
Mind the breach! Over. Oof!
That was a big one!
Onward. Onward.
I shall win, finally. I am confidant.
Not while I'm here.
I love you in the abstract but hate you face to face.
Take that!
Ow!
Bloody race. Bloody steeplechase.
My life is your death.
Your death is my life.
Disappear!
I won't!
Is this necessary?
For the moment.
Is it warm in here? Is it dark?
Don't be silly. It's the hour of 'rush'.
Hasn't it been awhile?
Wuss. Forgeddabowdit!
Can't we quit, now?
Never! Those are the rules.
How did I get into this?
Better not ask, if you're a man.
There's a 50% chance I'm not.
Your problem. Outta my way!
Bloody horse race.
Without horses.
Who will win the purse? The glorious winner's crown?
Who shall disappear in that lake? Drown in ecstasy?
Me! I shall be that happy, drowned fly.
No, me, me.
Idiots. Only me.
What's that ahead?
The finish! The finish!
How big it is! It shimmers. It breathes. It seems alive.
Oh, it is, believe me.
It beckons. I want to go there.
Fool!
What are those things stuck all over it? Those 'tenacles'.
Dunno. Hardly looks Elysian, though.
Not like what....