Prising through the fog like creeping fingers
headlights approach slowly, glaring and foul
from beneath the obscurement of mist,
a demoniac engine gurgles and growls.

A 1958 Plymouth Fury, one beauty of a car,
spoilers whistling, axels whispering

[THIEF]

ancient, but without sentiment -
the grills above her bumper curved into slender-hooked teeth

blood-red and fat, a body that's sleek,
bloated, ready to chastise;
one twisted zygote, a devil's reject -
from the depths of a broken heart, tendrils of fury begin to rise

blue-smoke billowing behind in transient swirls,
my mind bends as reality curls,
still lay here and she's getting closer -

and closer -

[- oh leave me be -

- just let me go -

- crawl someplace where your face won't show -]

She can't understand that my love for her is no longer,
she can't seem to understand that my resistance to her charms is so much stronger -

and still she speeds along the highway
taking the night and violently painting it red,
her wheels squealing towards
the dusty asphalt where I lie my head,

speeding along

not slowing down -

["Hey stop! No please STOP!!!"]

///CRUNCH///..-.

What happens when you shower in the dark?
you can't tell the environment around you, only
the soap laddering on your skin, and the streetlight
peering into the scene.

you don't get to see your arrogance accumulating from loneliness
like soap rinse-off left to dry on the ground.
the act of showering is to be clean
but you can't concretely see your arm
so how do you get to cleaning when you can't see?
how do you continue to hold on to hope when the feeling of
the need of warmth is pushing unto every square inch on you?
when you know the moment you turn the shower off
that coldness comes rushing in.
leaving your skin prickle displaying bumps
like that of a feather-plucked chicken readying for the feast.
Now you've got to resist, and hopefully they say he would flee.

Then you step in front of a mirror, remember its dark.
meaning there is nothing to see, but the fog is there to feel
bubbling in your face, churning your skin.
you know this darkness is not good for you,
but you embrace it like well a known friend
reeling in its obscurement, applying layers of cream.