We can grind our teeth
down to weathered tombstones

together.


Bound by love and sadness,
here we are
the rearguard of the desperate and the anxious -
holding hands
before an ocean
made of all the brakelights in the world.

There's no one I'd rather ignore warnings with
than you.

The raindrops and wipers
Kept time with the song
The redlights and brakelights
All soon played along
The stop and go rhythm
Of the shifting of gears
So perfectly synced
With my falling tears.

Sidewalks swallow
testimony
of the
transient
prophet
pulling
a bottle
from
the
faithless
pockets
of
passersby

He walks
and
has
a final glimpse
of the
brakelights
as they
rush
up
to
the
red
light

He's
alone
in
a
city
of
stone

millions


SoulSurvivor
(C) 1/12/2017

there's ice on the windshield,
overlapping, mirroring itself in an array like scales.

i scrape and scrape and scrape;
the ice would still remain.

it distorts.
hazards look like brakelights.
"Is something wrong?"
pedestrians resemble road signs.
"To where are you guiding me?"
road markings... nothing.
"Have I gone too far?"

i dare not try to change lanes
for fear of crashing
and bursting into a crowd of yellow and red octopuses that hug like a bloom.

but the warmth wouldn't reach me.
it wouldn't even melt the ice.
if the fire were on the inside,
the ice would still remain,
sealing me inside,
keeping me inside,
keeping me safe,
keeping the world safe...

i can't find my way.