15 Minute Free-Write

I tend to start a free-write after I get back-to-back rejections. It proves to me I am still a writer and writing for the right reasons. While I have never produced award-winning material, there has been a scene or two where my poem comes to life and devours a surly editor.
Are my free-writes awesome? Well, no. But it is not their purpose. What it does is more valuable than the content.

Here's my latest free-write. It was meant to be a prose poem but didn't turn out. I didn't do any editing to this so... yeah. I figure most writers only show you the good, finished stuff. Not me! lol
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Your voice rushes at me, a taxicab wielded like a knife through
afternoon traffic jams for an extra twenty dollars.
I could stop, the structures shift and puddle in the heat—broken mirages
dripping blood and sweat until dehydrated.
They make the pavement stick instead of slick.
My legs don’t work well and I curse you. Your presence is a pillow pressed tight
against my breathing, overwhelming ambition.
Can I use these legs to kick you? They are useless in propelling me forward.

Tree-line shadows stretch out with mine in yoga positions only for experts until another joins them. It is yours, of course. It is always yours. It distorts and deforms instead of enhances. Even my shadow twists around yours; I am bound. Is this what you wanted?

A gaze from you freezes me, ice burns kissing my skin and caressing my temples. I can’t think. Now, you are in front of me. Now, my languishing stride becomes immortalized mid-step. Now, you hold out your arms to me. My true prison locks itself automatically should I step into it. Your embrace emits darkness, icicles become arctic waves within it.
I succumb to hypothermia.