running poem

Ok so the combination of noticing many people leaving up away messages about needing to run to get out emotion and running myself while listening to Box full of sharp objects by the Used led me to create what i think is one creepy as hell poem that i kind of love. haha please consider this a case of the author being separate from the poem. I think i have to admit there is a very small amount of truth in a few lines but mostly this is purely imaginary. I do run partly to push my limits and it does help me get out stress and make sense of some things but running is not like this for me. btw i'd love to hear more feedback from people who read my stuff. here (i think people can leave comments), facebook, myspace, aim...whatever. let me know what you think of attempts at writing

I Tie these laces so tight
they begin to cut.
My shoestring tourniquet.
I need something to control
and crush and strangle
and I lie in my own hands.
So I'll push
Don't you get it?
I'm a masochist and
I stab myself on pavement.
Each footstep a dagger
that I welcome as I close
my eyes leaving trails of myself
up and down hills.
When i lay myself down at night
my pillows are half stained with tears
and half with blood of spiritual lacerations.
I'm not worth a damn thing
until I can push myself
further than my body is capable of going.
The effort makes me look stronger
but in truth
I'm delicately threading lies on top of lies
until my heart beats too strong
once, just once
and everything falls in
leaving me in panicked, futile
effort to stand myself again
So to hold it up I'll keep driving my
legs with all the force they have
until I fall clenching my heart with
the irony
that this was the only muscle
I really wanted to make stronger.