Today I feel like a broken down car.
My fuel tank ceases to be full.
My windows, once so shiny you could see your vain reflection in them, are now misty, shrouded in a kind of age,
I can't see out of them.
My vessel, the car itself, is punctured limb from wheel, bruised and cracked and burnt out, like the colour of sticky tar. Rancid.
The engine, fails to even cough or splutter. Not even a meagre shudder or squeak.
There is nobody in the front seat, or the passenger seat, or even the back seats. Not one person to steer me in the direction I'm supposed to go
Because I've been going down this road for too long.
They callously opened my car door, a power they hold like an affluent
king holds a copper penny, and left.
I'm somehow unable to make that famous U turn away from the 'danger ahead' sign.
I'm emphatically far down this road, and my engine doesn't spark like it used to, rearing like the hounding bulls seeing a red flag in the near distance. In fact now it is rather silent.
However I don't really feel the need for a recovery team like the AA to come and tow me back to resolution
I just feel like I know all too much about my journey and the people who I carried, and the same people who keyed my car
And the bitter end it has come to.
I am a broken down vehicle on a desolate road
And my engine is dead.
