To the kingmakers, the gods
who sacrifice themselves
every day
coated in sweat, riding the wave
one car after another
an automated conveyor belt
into the mouth of hell
a place so hot
the only way to sooth the ills
is to flip up the A/C knob
and bleed.
A suitable way to go
maybe
in light of what's up ahead,
a slow death
on someone else's terms
rather
than your own.
the car ahead bursts forward.
you choose not to.
the last act of possible defiance
in the fact of insanity,
a definition which society
calls normal.
a spire of a crescent sun
broken in weepiness
cries down upon you
its tears, the liquid
courage you need
to keep pushing.
unbuckle, feet on the blacktop
toss your keys into oncoming traffic
and wait.
they hit a windshield.
Buick Riviera.
the day is over
before it began
following the yellow lines
to a new destiny
bereft of God
you're a tiny speck
on the ass
of one big universe
one where
there are no winners
or losers
only those
who have life
in their eyes
again.
-
Author:
Justin Edse (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: December 20th, 2022 13:53
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 12
Offline)
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