I drive on the road
in circles carved in my head all night.
I study the white guide marks,
the cluster of rocks and rubble left
of pedestrian walks on either side.
The horizon rolling and collapsing on itself.
My eyes fixed on the road ahead:
the dark tar absorbing day and night,
summer and winter.
There are some trees beyond the rubble,
some sky directly above—
I am sure an ocean,
if I look at the rearview mirror.
But circles are dangerous.
Yes, circles cannot be trusted; from them,
gazes must not be lifted.
All night I lay upon my bed,
asleep, driving.
The road deepening as the trees erode it
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Author:
PennedAI (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 13th, 2026 04:08
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 23
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Tristan Robert Lange, Khansa Akhtar
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Comments3
This poem has a haunting aspect to its somnambulance a dreaming feeling that merges well with the topic. Nicely done
There is a great deal of metaphor and symbolism in this poem. A dream, is it revealing? Circles I think of roundabouts where one has choices but while in it makes no progress, they are dangerous intersections where accidents occur from careless drivers or those not obeying the rules where one can circle endlessly if one does not know where one is going. A lovely poem and a fave
Abdullah, this drew me in immediately. There is something deeply unsettling about it...that sense of movement without escape, of traveling while somehow remaining trapped within the same space. Powerful piece, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
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