We Might Get Well Tomorrow - A Series Of Poems

Springfield Headlights

With broken legs, I march towards my fate
Blinding moon around my sight to guide me
And no warming outstretched arms to stop me
I'll instead embrace in the front headlights.

This world of metal will swallow me whole
And I'll let it for a glimpse of freedom.
The head grows silent for The Great Nothing
Barrelling down the ghost road after miles.

I should yell at it to take me away.
Maybe then my legs would just stop clucking
'Till the relentless earth swirls out of sight
Or comes crashing down for everyone else.

I'm not sure if I crave the fleeting door
Or if I'm just entertained by the thought.
I'll stay where I can't take this anymore
To later cash in all the time I've bought.

Two months and not a single car sped by.
Two months passed, she has, I haven't chosen.
Shadows of broken clocks keep me frozen
Waiting for 'last' burning fires to die.

We'll get well tomorrow if we see it,
But right now, I'm too lost in the mo(u)rning.
Blackened sky with Springfield Headlights dawning
Too much, I won't see the misery close.