A STAIN IN YOUR LANE
BY J. HUNTER
Heat waves rise & fall, to begin & end on desert-worn asphalt now dried old edges
chipped away, easily, seen by a blind eye ...
However paint won’t peel as fast, along these glowing yellow lines ...
So follow them I must, wandering throughout a multi-verse of time ...
Another continuation of space, spread out for future self's to find …
Knowing what’s to come of this race, fear of new beginnings no longer bind ...
I sit alone with my past & thoughts of future crimes.
I’m placed in the center of another dimension.
Wanting, waiting, wagering life & limb with no contention.
Freely contesting every word, anyone has allowed to flow,
Just wasted breath, in a lost language called demise, interpretation of tragedy strikes,
head on collisions of another perception only seen glass eyes between yellow lines,
Hearts without reason sold at my own expense,
In order to keep up with challenging the past, questioning fake lines left to keep me
following someone else's path, but I won’t be leaving behind.
I'll blaze my own trail with all types of lines painted not to find
One must begin to truly feel & harness a new sight through fresh eyes
For as the tears really begin to fall from fright
It'll be the grains of sand & their numbers,
Which absorb the truth, as wisdom begins to pool, at the feet of the weak
Except they only say more & more although with all holding no weight it only means,
less & less with each breath one takes watching & wandering eyes all stare through a sea
of consistently dimming flames,
A flickering glow is seen outlined for the first & last time, without a single lane, to get a
ghost to rise & blame. | JH