Devoid

Monday, May 26, 2003:

Sometimes the road is long
Sometimes the path is winding
The tires spin, the lights glare
Streaming through the glass, striking my blank stare
The wind blows by, whistling as it caresses the steel
I stare out at the lights, and I jerk the wheel
I cannot resist the compulsion to want this road to end
The car careens towards the nearest concrete barrier
The walls of this life; I smile and close my eyes
I immagine that I am flying, far up in the sky
Far above the lights
Far above the glare
Far above myself, and my empty stare
This road must end, and so must I
At last I am not sad, finally I can die




Chris // 5/26/2003

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