Roadkill

Traveling at 53 on the road towards home and I let my windows down. The cloying summer heat suffocates me and it's a morbid sort of grounding. My lungs seize with the scent of bloated roadkill but at least this asphyxiation is physical giving me a reprieve from the mental chokehold I'm usually stuck in. It's like mother nature is saying; if you keep holding this in you'll fester and rot like these animals stuck to the pavement. Decaying from the inside out. But I can't let go. And the storm builds inside me. A stark parallel to the humidity that's heavy in the air trying to burst into a storm but not being allowed to. I hope when the rain finally comes it washes away all the blood stains because I'm ready to be clean.

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Written by

Tallflower

33 / F / Lost

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