| I was out one day, driving in my car. The road was slippery with my tears, but when I start to slide I sat, free the wheel. The white line slides below the tires with an ease, reminicent of the years slipping past my eyes. The song plays loudly in my ears while this speeding body steers twoard that which is end of the road, my fears. Blurred as in a dream, awake?, the world it may seem, sometimes to let some love sneak through and quick to lose control, desperate, are those of us who allow its entrance to our doors. Poor is the man who feels deeply for, as it goes, he feels the woes, as well. All's well. Tell us, stoic cement walls closing in with such assurance, from where does your disinterest stem? Am I to do nothing in prevention of the end? Pedal to the floor, she loves me not and that's the last of it. There's the rub, my friend, you are not there. You never were and that's ok. Alone has always been my way. Life, it passes before my mind no faster than it before has gone, which is, fortunately for you quickly, as the last moments become the times of now. How I regret. Oh the guilt! It rushes upon me as true as the edge of the middle of my demise. My heart only beats when the tires catch. A sinking feeling of continued life takes its hold. Just as well, there's more pain to be had. Back to work. |
| Alone Has Always Been My Way... |