The moments, the highs, the lows, the instances, days and nights all stretch together into one. A dashed white line and black borders are my sight the entire way. A parking lot with lights blaring bright, all night. Two stores in different locations with different weather, but the accents are the same. Three of these corporate incarnations have zero variation, despite the subtle changes of the places outside them.
Grackles in a stretch of land that looks wild, but the air hums with the off echoes of the highway in minors that sing like yokai all around me. The breeze here is black in yellow or green air-quality. The neon highway sign alerts me it is moderately safe to breathe.
This existence is a hyper-real movie, a video game with life-stakes just passing before me. All of it takes place within that white, death-covered cab. All of it leads to only one possible end. All of it is a taut rubber band against my inner wrist, just waiting to be released.
In the thick mid-continent air, I feel the tension building like a vessel climbing a ramp running up a mountain, cut deep in a thick line of pines. There are electrical poles alongside these emotions as they run up along the sides to ram into my chest like a semi-truck that failed to check its brakes and stop in the long blinding curve down into the valley below.
A single lie lies in between us, and I know its real before I really know it.
The dreams and nightmares of another life are here before me with faces and voices, every one. I speak so eloquently on the whys and hows of how and why we left. I think so quick and smooth, so fast like a synapse that happens just before the thought can make itself known to the brain. My spinal cord jerks me in the right direction long before you ever get to me.
This steady violence hidden, tucked and holding tack underneath me is like a second skin I wear whenever you get around to coming down.
We want so desperately to deceive ourselves and say, in an exhaled breath, that it’s the devices that are wrong.
If you try that truth, I don’t think I can find my way behind it.
If we lie along the electrified lines, we may find that this skin of ours grows sparks.
I might be burning inside, but can you smell the flesh as it slips off – hot and raw?
One more stretch before the end and the beginning and the next revision of whatever nightmare inside of a dream we’re living.
I took that long and empty road all alone. I slept in between blankets, pillows I was barely allowed, and the one thing I had even the remotest desire to drag back. Eyes of strangers overlooked me, watched over me, guarded or judged or protected me. And, in that single moment of half-wake, half-dream — I realised that the one thing I’m missing is the one thing I won’t ever need.
A highway overpass of hikasa nests like hornets and wasps swarm the metal death craft I’m in. The rain and electrical storms pound against this outer shell. But inside, I feel and hear nothing of it at all.
If I step out — all of life surrounds me. And the violence I fear is stronger on the inside than the out.
Inside these dead metal walls burning death away. I know the darkness builds greater behind my eyes than it ever does staring in the light.
And in two weeks, I realised I had never been alone.
Tomorrow takes the road back a way I have never gone before. To what, exactly, do I return?
Without an answer, the question just sits and, like a dull ember, burns into my empty belly.
It may have been my inheritance all along to burn down this way.
A slow glowing failure down a long tempered road.
And, nowhere on either side to go.