smokes to die.
I run to live.
Yet we're both crazy.
Running away in books
is almost as great
as the real thing.
Except neither ever got me anywhere.
Neither will driving
without a sweet meal
of gasoline.
I pull into a truck stop.
And suddenly,
so many eyes
are scouring me,
undressing me,
feeling me up.
So I 'accidentally' slip down
a shoulder strap.
Hell, maybe I won't have to drive.
Someone can do it for me.
YOU ARE READING
What Comes Next... [Wattys 2014]
PoetryViolet has never stopped running. She lives for the wind on her face, and seeing the blur of cars as they drive by. And she has real problems to run from. An alcoholic mother, an abusive ex-boyfriend, and the lowest grades in school. It's time for V...