If we could observe no other organisms with wings
how much longer would it have taken us to achieve flight?

I'm on a delivery
speeding down this precarious winding road
                  speeding for efficiency
    speeding for style
the sun strobes yellow through the trees
    like a sign for yielding
but the cars behind me tailgate
speed is maintained for fear of getting hit.

          Time flies as fast as
the lines on the road entrance me
          driving through a haze
the sun is obscured by cumulus clouds
           then disappears.

There's low visibility at night and my headlights are fading.
            Everything is blurry through my win shield.
         Weather gets colder in the absence of the sun
                                                       ice forms on the road.
A decision is made to maintain speed at the expense of control.
  A dusty bible slides back and forth in my glove compartment
                 dancing with my wayward movements.

     My light traces the road
like a spark tracing a fuse
the wick burns quickly for a fiery delivery.
My yellow lights trace yellow lines
so the road stays yellow all the time
         but I can see the darkness
over my shoulder as well as the road's
my headlights keep the darkness at bay
        but it's tedious driving this way.

          Movement never ceases
     I shouldn't be texting and driving
but I need someone to know I'm trying.
   This road took everything from me
       this road became my purpose
       something somewhat special
         that couldn't be purchased.

I'm on a delivery
destination undefined
it's not about where I'm going but how far
which is why I wish I could buy a new car.

Winter spills over Kentucky
like a splash of liquid nitrogen

what eats is scarce because what's eaten is scarce
scavengers search trash cans—enjoying the warmth inside

ice scabs over fluvial lakes
once their revenue streams have been frozen

a faint, far away generator screams away the cold
like smokestacks on the horizon

(all that smoke must mean something
I figure something must be burning)

a fire burns somewhere—I'm not there
I'm here, and here, there's a fire over there

crimson cardinals appear through neutral trees
like I was struck in the head with a blunt object

darkness drifts overhead where geese drift away
as Kentucky loses consciousness

gauzy snow is wrapped around the state
—a cold compress for the fall's wounds

time heals all wounds
but is a wound itself.

Relationships need trust and honesty
I need to trust you're honest with yourself
but you got me grappling and groveling
every time I loosen my belt
your face starts to melt
pulling shame off the shelf
your blame takes my health.

Too many accusations
too much blame
I experience saturation
in your flame
of toxic guilt
with which I'm filled
from the oil you spill
on a torn canvas
like a praying mantis
straining my bandwidth
until I can't sit and demand this
**** sandwich no longer be brandished.

You blame me for everything
even when you're wrong
you look at every sting
as a planted bomb
**** I'm gone
the lamb I'm on
from your grand ole song
I'm a handled hog
freed from a damaged log.

You're always right
like the hand I ******* with
without you in sight
I'm bound to my coffin.

Why don't you answer?
I just want to talk
it's like a silent cancer
making me want to stalk
or outline with chalk
our friendship
and why I must end this.

I want to quietly leave
like the way you stay
pay me no heed
I'll be in my grave
instead of be in the way
I'll bleed just to say
anything for attention paid.

Your evasion's abrasions
stole my elation
and substituted placation
to complete my disintegration
within your disinterest nation
where the citizens never vote or protest
they just see who floats the lowest
learning how to go the slowest.

It isn't clingy as ****
to say I don't see you enough
to leave out this rut
I need your disrupt
but all I hear is a lack of sound
so I back on down
to the blackened ground
where I'm the last around
in a silence loud.

I’m a snowflake falling through night’s mute darkness
landing in the prismatic puddle of gasoline
left by the fumes of your car’s exhaust
collecting on top of the gravelly grime
of an Amazon fulfillment center
where the snow settles but never sticks
in the ascending puddles behind your car.

When the cold rain enters
it makes me remember
lifetimes of past Decembers
and their nasty embers.
Each drop a designer
momentary reminder
of a recreational resigner's
unchecked timer.
I am not reborn
in the rain's misty scorn
I see Satan's horns
in rain clouds formed.

Sensory recall
makes me fall
into the needle
of a lifestyle fetal
crying for my mommy
of a ****** haunting
my past life is flaunting
through raindrops upon me
their ripples are bombing
my mentality modeling
of the unguarded godly.

Inclement
in descent
in cement
mixed with saline
so I may dream
maiming Maybelline
makes me made to scream
drowning in memory
separating what's ahead of me
with the possible death of me
after a moment of leveling
water brings devil's wings.

I guess I'm like this forever
mainlined or severed
would've been much better
than stuck in the nether
between order and chaos
mortars of raindrops
show where my aim lost
and the insane cost
of the water in the syringe
raining into my veins
so I cry and I cringe
when it rains all the same.