I like to run

I like to run from my problems like they are chasing me. 
Like if I go fast enough,
Distract hard enough,
They will disappear.
But they don’t,
And I keep running.
I like to run only in the metaphorical sense.
I don’t like losing my breath.
I wish I did,
Running is good exercise,
And you can’t think about much when running.
I think too much,
Which is why I don’t like to write.
My hands love the keyboard,
They dash across it like a fawn to its mother,
But my brain is more like a deer in the headlights.
It freezes,
Knowing that when my hands write, they tell the truth.
So I don’t write.
And I don’t read.
And I do my homework,
And watch trash television,
And laugh at jokes that aren’t funny,
Until I don’t remember who I was before.
I used to love to write.