Two sets of taillights burn dim and divide,
Stretch for miles making track marks across what veins fail to carry.
You should
have taken my keys while my hands were shaking.
You could have kept the dead gone, entombed in the soil of arms.
Raise the breathing
abrasion with a turn of the key.
Lost motor skills and a set cruise control.
Mangled insect screams through the puddles of
drool.
Mainline the highway baby,
Tie off the concrete veins and set the radio to fm
Love songs clocked relapse defined by the
rpm's of a static heart,
Reanimated by the rush of eyes and horizon.
Nothing warms like a road flare when caution sets.
Anodyne
seeps like dashed yellow lines through the withdrawn rearview addict.
Drenched to the drawn teeth in seething foam.
If you want me
dead, you should have called me home.
Rumble strip as pulse prevents retreating eyes, dilate and close.
I can feel the dry heaves
moisten, I can feel the blood withdraw.
You are my failed twelve step program.
A red light could kick this habit, a needle full of
the junkies fuel.
Drops of blood on her fingertips.
Your arms are a deprivation chamber.
Sterile to sixty in forever
flat.
Dissolve into the coast like john wayne.
A hero and his heroine.