we are burnt inside,
full of old straw,
tar and wet ash,
passing trucks lift my hair,
wash my eyes with diesel
trees and fields behind the stop
are fenced and grubby,
they darken,
we are lost in direction
between two nothings,
untied to our kin ;
seekers of line and light
down the way of a savage god,
the cruel autobahn.
Nov 4, 2016
Nov 4, 2016 at 5:32 AM UTC
we are burnt inside,
full of old straw,
tar and wet ash,
passing trucks lift my hair,
wash my eyes with diesel
trees and fields behind the stop
are fenced and grubby,
they darken,
we are lost in direction
between two nothings,
untied to our kin ;
seekers of line and light
down the way of a savage god,
the cruel autobahn.