Everything Always Changes ½ Way Thru

Damnit

Making new grooves

I slide headlong.

The gravel spits behind me.

Drinkers, squatters,

shadier dealers sometimes

choose this road,

but today it is mine.

Desolate.

While the trees split before me.

My clandestine copilots

neglect to appear.

Had they I’d never noted

So focused was eye.

And my ear

never tuned to

that insistent whispered fear.

Though my only aim was

remaining,

I knew my own defenses.

Lest I crash or drown

Spiritually.

Enjoyment’s conclusion;

Necrosis.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Meh.

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