on highways, rails, rivers and trails
we cut open the prairie wild
to poison our mother and bleed her dry
blind to the consequence

these fine white lines confine me
on aimless, nameless streets

where fences hang from twisted crosses
crucifying pages torn
from our fathers' histories
we'd rather soon forget

these fine white lines confine me
on shameless, blameless streets

when cold winds come blowing backward
and freeze the spaces in between
will our children know have this earth
if we do not know mercy?

these fine white lines confine me
on aimless, nameless, shameless, blameless streets

Your voice is the perfect song to listen to on a road trip.
To view all the things that remind me of you.
Miles away from the stress of work.
Your voice, the open road.
Someone I can love, no traffic jam in sight.
The goosebumps from the air on full blast.
To feel love when no love is felt.
A broken down car with someone to help when something is wrong.
The air tastes different, miles away from the city.
A euphoric high.
Your voice a beautiful path.
My phone thrown somewhere in the backseat traveling a scenic road I've never been.
No track of time.
The thing about disease is that you never know until its too late.
It spreads. Becoming infectious.
You've become my relief, my cure.
Your voice like the breeze flowing through my hand.
Your voice the only other sound that could be heard outside of the car and the road.
I've kissed the air a thousand times over.
Driving pass my destination.
Listening to the sound of your voice.
I don't want to move from behind the steering wheel.
What's a couple hundred more miles.
You guiding me pass every exit sign.
Enjoying the ride

i envy the cars that end up driving south.
the streetlights are tempting,
and blurred buildings tell me
“there’s other ways out”.
a handful of exit plans,
and empty destinations,
that i am reminded once again
in this world it is truly every man for themselves.
because if it were different
silence wouldn’t be my only company,
as i drive absentmindedly
hating every exit sign i see.

maybe the thought of having nowhere to go
is more humble
than the thought of having no one to give you a place to be.

Trembling hands
             against circular grip.

Pieces of road
             reveal and disappear.
Pools of light
             raked with speed.

My jacket lifts with
             each heart beat.
Her invitation rattles
             in my skull.

Blood flows
             &
body tingles.
Sweat.
            Excitement.
                               Anticipation.

Our bodies will soon
             be together.

I drive.
Each night passes by
cold shadows
tell no lies,
by flicker strangely
like specters
dying before me.

The road is mine
and I am its,
possessed by quiet reflections.
Daylight finds
hills that ride
and roll
up and down
all around me.

Stimulants,
set to see me
safely home,
little nicotine sticks,
not actual cigarette
of vapes
but gas station
electronic
devices,
stacked with
lots of caffeine.

Music and podcasts,
audio books
play by to fast,
they never seem to last,
because the drive never ends.

Hotels,
hot showers,
more caffeine
then overtime hours.

Until,
they settle me down
to one worksite
and that rogue
road work life
fades fast behind me.

Part of me misses
the unpredictable madness.
Part of me is grateful
for the stability.
Its healthy
cause I get better sleep.
Now I drive the same route
every **** day,
but I miss the strangeness
of the different roads
I used to take.

Last night, mine was the only spaceship riding the Milky Way
I beamed through a vortex of dashed lines and lights
Lightyears of distance fueled by adventure
A highway of stars floating in a black abyss
Everything, nothing, and beyond, all to myself

I flew around the world to face the Sun  on the other side
I lead the Night and we went to battle for time
I stared into its great red eye until the collision
The dark, with its stars and magic was destroyed
A devastatingly slow explosion of golden clouds

I woke this morning in the body of a girl
In an apartment, in a neighborhood
Outside people walk in the daylight
They have no idea what I have lost

i no longer write when im sad
because sadness no longer writes for me

sad in a blur in my rear view
now the occasional melancholy dusk

the rear view does not mean as much as my windshield
i drive towards the sunrise

oranges and yellows
blues and pinks

sadness blends now
it is no longer a solid hue

i have love
i have a horizon to drive towards

no matter where it leads
i am driving nonetheless

we explored
listened to rain on his windshield
watched the waves crash

when he drove me home
he held my hand
i kissed him at all the red lights