Two machines crash and burn with me inside
In this situation there is nowhere to hide
Metal crushing around my limbs
Glass breaking and slicing my skin
The smell of copper and gasoline
I don’t know how to get out…..much less leave
Tires slipping on the wet asphalt
Like an ice skating ballerina
Get ready for the fight of “whose fault?”
In this mess can we actually find a winner?
There is no avoiding this
You’ve broken my machine
How do you expect me to move around?
This thought makes me sick
Flashing lights wake me from this daze
Is this real? I’m stuck in a numb haze
Don’t ask me questions
It’s not sunken in yet, I haven’t gotten the memory set
Can I blame the road? The path I was on was not for me.
I am a victim of this out of control machine
2 comments:
these are all tidy and looking good first, I need to read though.
Americana waits for me, her rain, her salt, her soil.
Her sins, her beatings, her lashings.
I don’t go willingly, but soon will love her, but only after I hate being born unto her.
I become on edge like an insane loon, like a cat in a clown suit who knows how stupid he looks, like a pedestrian who’s about to be strong arm robbed or struck by a car that runs off the road.
In the end, im happy if my struggle takes me to where I want to go, with Americana, with her approval, even from afar.
To sit and take in, the expanded sky, the frying sun, the sickening cold.
To hear her song from my vantage under the marsh. Peace be with you Americana, for you bring me peace after my struggle, though I know soon I will be struggling again.
Post a Comment