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Chay Sep 29
Hey, text me when you get home safe.
Please dont drink and drive. And always let the people around you know that you love them. Who knows when they might be gone
Nigdaw Sep 22
I follow the slow funeralistic parade
Too late to escape, warning came
On the radio, way past my last exit
I wonder who has died today?
Cars pass what were once shiny projectiles
Such as they, but are now soulless wrecks
Burnt out, like X-rays.

Who fell asleep at the wheel
Or made that last telephone call
That just couldn’t wait, while
Still chasing time in the fast lane,
To catch up with a schedule that now
Is as redundant as the chunk of metal
He was still trying to pay for.

Flashing lights mark the perimeter
Of some executive’s last stand
An accident? Perhaps, but maybe
Life just became that bit too quick
And caught up with him
An overdose of technology, leading to
A breakdown in human capacity.

We, the survivors, look on with grief
That could’ve been me! But not
Thankfully today, speeding on our way
Soon forgetting the graphic lesson
Someone gave their all to paint
But we have to look, just to see
If anyone has really died today.
Orion Sep 11
There is a self-assurance when driving alone in a car,
A broken leather bag tossed in the passenger seat, sunset at his back,
Sweat pooling under his shirt at the valley below his chest;
Earbuds pressed as far as they’ll go in
Blocking out violent winds as he goes over a perfectly photographed bridge
Fog rolling in over waves and through the painted orange beams of streetlights

He is living in someone else’s fantasy:
dressed to the nines,
the eights,
the sevens
Counting down shirt buttons to the way his belt sits a little too loose around his hips,
Black undershirt and unauthorized jeans smelling like stale convenience-store coffee
And strange sanitized emotions that unkempt grocery stores bring to mind--
He is beaming and
Expressing the love he has for this moment in the purest way he knows how.

He doesn’t believe that it is a singularity, an expression of a single thing
A tangle of words that knot into something unnervingly detached from
What he knows how to wrap someone else in with trained fingers
Under the guise of practice
Love is something he has found is undefined

He is not sure he believes in a staying love.
It comes and goes as it pleases in the moment,
It is the word he leaves reserved for the way yellow makes him feel;
How he felt when he saw green as green as green could be through rose-tinted glasses;
The steam rising from named coffee mugs, light streaming through windows;
It is the word he felt when he fell asleep entangled in someone else’s arms and legs
Socks kicked off at the ankles,
And in the sudden realization that he wanted soup;
In seeing painted purple pauses in thought scattered across his chest and shoulders;
In moth wings and bee stings, in smiles and kissing curiosity

It is an emotion he can’t take ownership of
Rather, it is something that dunks him into a washing machine and
Cleans him of the exhaustion that sinks into the minds of men who don’t cry
Honey-colored bubbles rising from bent fingers and wide eyes
Like jellyfish that don’t know any better than to pop when they reach the surface
Of water below a perfectly photographed bridge.
Julia Aug 28
drive. slo.
chill. ****.
rode. up.
ya done.

your baby isn’t dying
if you’re late you’re just not trying
so tell me why the ******* flying
in a civic down 45?

nothing civil bout your ride
last week 11 people died
that way so everything aside
it’s time to smile and just glide

no. stress.
the road to happiness
ain’t on my tesla’s gps
i guess the next best thing’s to bless
the morning as you’re getting dressed

slo. roll.
toe. hold.
gro. old.
ya done.
for God's sake use your blinker
Starry Aug 28
The average driver
Decision decision s
to go right
or to go left
There he waits
Until every thing is safe
ayb Aug 14
When I drive, I spend more time looking in the rearview mirror than I do in front of me.
No, that isn’t a metaphor, I mean it literally.
It’s more appealing to live in memories, forget the trauma as it’s happening.
I may never change, but I like living in the illusion of safety.
I used the rubble from the bridges I burned
To build my own path,
My regrets need to tighten my nikes
As I am running out of patience.
Even though I feel you next to me
In this car driving me crazy.
You see, I twiddle my thumbs
Trying to find my parking spot
To steer my eyes away from looking at yours.
I have the drive to buy a Ford Mustang
So I can start an Expedition
To find my Edge to Navigate my Escape
From this Fiesta that my heart has created
Just by looking at you.
You tear the thorns off my branches
That were left from people who don't use their blinkers.
You lead my heart on a warm highway,
Im bumper to bumper with these conflicting thoughts.
As we sit here between our next chapter
To find our next direction.
Should I just drift into the path of some oncoming lights?

Has that ever been known to make anything right?
Late night driving thoughts.
Sitting lonesome at the wheel
By my side the only one
Who ever tried to understand,
So many thoughts afloat,
And so many words to be said that need saying
So many words

Picking of strings float to my ears,
I can hear it but I'm not listening,
Thoughts drifting from place to place,
How I long to let it fall away
And be cleansed from what I have to say,
And so many words to be said that need saying
So many words

Before me is only what is lit
Behind is the dark that flows past
Not sure if I should say anything
There would not be much point anyway
Too many thoughts to say at once
The burden is great, near unbearable
Who is to know if that should ever change?
And so many words to be said that need saying
So many words

What is in front is all I can see
Nothing more and nothing less
It all comes to an end eventually
I before it, most likely
Always moving though the view never changes
A pair of lights approach and disappear
They always say the journey, not the destination
This journey is one what never ends
And so many words to be said that need saying
So many words

A soft glow form the corner of my w\eye
Renders the rest a dull grey
All the things that pass by
Once seen, never again
That's the way it is for everything
Here once, then gone forever
They do so little yet there are so many
Is there much point to it at all?
And so many words to be said that need saying
So many words

So now I am here in the dark
No longer moving and all is quiet
Sound that once was is now no more
Gives me clearance to ponder further
The seat to my side still feels warm
Where there was once compassion
Never will the words ever be heard
With me now they go, forever more
And so many words to be said that need saying
So many words
Just to clarify, this was my first attempt, unedited, at this kind of thing many years ago sat in a car in the middle of the night. Which is why it is like this.
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