The valleys fall prey to a fog at night
And the highways play host to the slaughter
As cars that keep on crashing and crashing
Start sounding a lot like laughter

As two shapeless figures whisper about
The whirring from one to the next

We sit alone on my front porch,
And smile as we watch them blur by:
One dead dream into another
A collision of clouds in the sky

Then disfigured drivers stumble out
Of all their twisted, burning wrecks

And we’re jaded just enough to grin
Though we’ve not seen hurt like theirs before
Black shapes sway like the drunk or dead
Then fall like dancers to their floor

And with one horrific, final shout
The highway gathers his subjects

And we are forced to pay some homage
To these rotting, gruesome ghosts
That remind us of the vices
That would serve us now the most

All of those connected to the doubt
That this dreamer's life rejects

That the victims in this love scene
Were not the sleepwalkers in cars
But she and I, who watched them
And smiled at their scars

08/12/2009

Author's Note: I never liked this one all that much, but figured I'd share it anyway.

Posted on 08/12/2009
Copyright © 2024 V. Blake