To Drown

I don't know what I'm late for...
I just have this awful urge to run, to sprint until I can't.
A whole bodied pins and needles points me in every direction,
My compass is broken but my destination calls on the wind, the storm.
I can feel my purpose but I can't yet see it.
It sits impatiently waiting just out of reach, furious at my lack of ability.
It's calls me lazy.
It calls me lost.
But how can I be lost?
I know this place so well.
I am treading water against the swell.
Maybe my destination is below the waves.
Do I delay the inevitable.
I wonder...
How dangerous the way