Detach from your feelings
Let the soul fly out of your
Dark heart
While the Lizard King takes the wheel

A joyless joy ride
Inside your head

Tires screech
Your soul flies back in
Just in time
Crash

Gravity died,
Or so it seemed to us, who were to die,
All loose objects vortical,
Yet static,
                 car spinning,
side over side, the policeman said,
No one could've survived,
Radial blur
All in the rearview
Thud of impact, Thud of stillness
No screams till the spinning wheel ceased
and then only one,
                                 melting like snow upon asphalt.

Smithereens
we,
with, on, a truck’s van
speeding scrapping,
alas, vagabond voyage ceiling

Well, astral jumping from a car /cinnamonned sun/
isn’t hard then I see, creek

We,
the cloak, the moment and me the contracting,
a book of flights spread open, we
a discarding,
as its wing from gold smothered in
most blue sky and a red sign towards
embarking to a new life/face encrusting

Joy, lazy, lounged,
like a banjo in its autumn on a porch jiggly slouch,
strings light freeze at wind, clasp, then step up and
as the hitchhiker dance.

Amèlie, I caught your sound!
your theme, lastly away,
the accordion’s as of now met,
adopted in a knee’s set,
one leg around the other a mess.
Hanging springs of it, at edge.

Maroon,
eyes currently in wood carved,
steampunk clogs, clads there
fine.

Mellow,
whole body a cello,
from boots with folly drunk
through wood prolonging curved
to the “f”s at the end of ideas and
caramel hair known as falling leaves’
place.

This
will
be
a
great
something.

Laid open!
Further!
Hitter!
Onward higher!

Off,
so off
we
go

There must be a message
in the occurrence that whenever
in a closed-up space of time
I can never sit down
to any mind-occupying activity
yet resort no matter what
to observance,
passing as unrequited passion
of someone else’s (vocation),
shape-o-thoughts and sensing,
being the music the radio is listening to, and tender stupefying approaching
to hurt questions and structures
who hold onto philosophy
and one stance.
My depth darts me over
to finally look straight
into my own eyes
instead of straying,
diverting from the claim of my proper door.
I cannot die and will not,
will not leave my higher stake
for the trash bins’,
among which we live in,
sake.

Slow down
Not so far
Get out of the car
And give me back
My crown

There is only
one road into this heart-
no speed limit,
and no exits to
speak of.

I am running late
Both kids in the back
It's high traffic
And the roads are packed
Sixty is the speed limit
I am almost at 65
Reflections of passing cars
And their bright headlights
I am trying to pay attention
But the noise is too much
I am VERY late
And he is going to get *******
Just passed the intersection
Not too far to go
I noticed a car up ahead, on the right
It was going slow
I didn't think much of it
He was in a parking lot
And as I sped towards his exit
My common sense expected him to stop
However, he did just the opposite
And he sped up
The noise was horrible
I squeezed my eyes shut
I have never been so scared
That I almost gave up
A 17 year old boy
It was a hit and run
He left and he didn't give a ****
Not even one
I now have two metal vertabraes
On the top right of my spine
The two under those are infused
Now the scar on my throat is mine
My kids were Okay (Thank You!)
No scratch. No bruise
I will never forget that feeling
Of how it could be YOUR life to lose

In this house so big,
where mammoth appears miniature as a twig,
is occupied by my family lil wacky,
and the members lil shabby.

Fancy dress is a quotidian.
And try to talk in lydian.

I love being with them.
Treat me as a rare gem.

We spend time ample.
But they leave me alone in a temple.

Few times their pretend cuts look real,
like denying to heal.

Forever with me.
But a visiter and no guarantee.

People are weirdly overwhelmed by sentiments,
and ask me how am i doing since the car accident.