Unpublished pieces

Driving, the rain shattering against the windshield.
The mud splattering the wheels as they turn
around and around.
Radio blasting some old rock and roll song.
Singing along with mumbled voice
louder and louder.
Drowning out the pounding of the heart
that has become
sterilized into stone.
I woke up one morning and realized that
the first thing I had to do was run away
from the life I was living.
It was stagnant and
forcing me to
be messages of lies
I had promised
never to be.
Driving, the plastic seats conforming me to
the pitch black neverland of endless
duties that had
become the staple
of my existence.
The same day repeated over and over again
until living became a blurred sense of
imploding the same
frame of references
in black and white
framed pictures.
Each photograph captured another sense of
futility and the rain swept car dashed further
away from the meaningless destiny
that had defined the entire
hanging vines of
Faster went the wheels as I stepped on the gas
and flew like a mangled madman down the
highway escaping from the
pursuing normality
of the fire.
It burned within as it consumed the dreams
and pretended itself into a state of living
that was death realized.
Driving, I wondered what type of illusion
could replace the streams of sameness
that has flown like banners
of surrender
my line of vision.
The wheels made hissing sounds as they
splashed onto the concrete of survival.
The windshield wipers stopped working.
I felt the tension evaporating as I drove
the car full-tilt into the first brick wall
I could find.
Now the game could be over.
Now the end could be a beginning.

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