six AM
on the road

the sky is screaming purple
and cars speeding
and headlights leaving trails
of orange tears

the air tastes like
tangerine

and i lost my glasses this morning
mosaic mosaic
in the backseat
on century roads

like we're high
hell
like we're high

can't see
past my the back of my hand
don't know
don't know

what to think
when I'm not driving
flying
past it all
fast
but I'm so slow
so dead

might as well forget