a blender on high

The night has a violence
that is hard to comprehend
It has noises and ferments
with fears, with torments
Your eyes are bloodshot
more often than not
You feel an age much more
than your tender bones
You hold experiences
beyond your own words
You are a city contained in one
your complexity is obnoxious,
your depths unsoundable
You haven been given rare opportunities
and hardware to match
It is no wonder
your head churns like
a blender on high
but the question remains
Why hasn't that motor burned out?
what energizes you
keeps you viable
sane enough to function
With so much friction,
why isn't there fire?
You are blessed
and you are cursed
you can live in one
but both exist
You cannot run from it
your character is concrete
you are a contradiction set in stone
and you are your greatest foe
How many miles
do you have to run
before you realize
you will always be overtaken?