Homeward bound, I am
perpetually spinning in this
smoky, laser-filled dream
of emotions.

The affinity tasted like
cranberry ***** straight
from a she-devil’s raw lips.

The melancholy unleashed
defense mechanisms in
my taste buds.

Skepticism played like
pointy, nonmusical harmonies
cramming into the cracks
of my mind.

Driving down this same latitude,
only full-length roads ahead, no grocery stores,
no gas stations, dark pavement on-repeat
like tribal drumming.