PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

It’s too dark to see the cars clearly, only their headlights are distinguishable, quickly followed by their tail lights. I’m driving slow, hoping that one of these cars that’s passing will be you, chasing me, coming to tell me that I was wrong, that this isn’t the end. We don’t get hurricanes in Michigan, no tropical storms, no nor’easters either, we get some of the lake effect, but never too bad. However, tonight’s storm seems to be packing a little extra punch. The radio is cutting in and out but it sounds like she’s saying gale force winds, the worst storm of the year so far. The rain is falling in sheets now, and my hopes are crushed because every other car has left the road, and I wouldn’t want you chasing me into this anyways. I have a habit of pushing the limit, and usually it ends poorly for me. Many injuries, a few nights in holding cells, and far too many broken hearts. No more, today it will be fate, the road will decide my future. The radio finally cuts out, so I change the station, Forever Young by Alphaville fills the void of silence that’s been left in my passenger seat. Why do we try to live forever, the world sits and waits for us all, but time and time again she proves there is nothing we can do, so why don’t we just die young? We can’t control our lives, we can only hope to leave our legacy before the lights go out on Broadway, the curtains close, and we take our bow and relinquish to the ground which we used for so long. Is it possible that we bury ourselves to hold other’s higher? Or are we going under to avoid the truth of what we did while we were here. I have destroyed more than I have created, I have hurt more than I have helped, and I take more than I can return. If people knew the truth about me they would put me underground before I could even say their names. Given, I imagine it’d be a lot of names, I’m sure there would be a lot of people dying to get in on that. A liar, a thief, useless, worthless, deceitful, just a few of the words they would use. Inside my mind I see myself through the mirror of trust and purity, and all that reflects is a pair of unforgiving blue eyes. No pupils, no sclera, no eyelids, lashes, no body, just the trustable blue irises that have betrayed so many and left a wake of destruction. I slide through a turn, fishtailing over the curve but my back tires don’t give in, and the car comes back onto the puddled cement. The radio changes, Freddie Mercury’s baritone cuts through the sound of the rain, and in poetic fashion it is Who Wants To Live Forever that echoes through the speakers. I see that my car has taken my life into it’s own hands, keeping me on the road through my stupidity. Queen’s musical perfection connects with me and I hear Freddie sing that love must die. Isn’t it true then, that love is already dead? If it must die, and there is no time for us, then I find no point in it at all. And assuming Alphaville is mistaken and we will not live forever, then I find that we must already be dead, along with our love. And then, there is no point in living at all. So, I proceed to say that it is worth it for me to let the world see my truth. The consequence of ending up in the ground is not a fear that I share with my peers and companions, friends and acquaintances. Rather, it is a curiosity that I look upon with fondness and the desire to discover. Now I wait to see, I wait to find the person who will be the vessel to share this information. It must be somebody important, if you believe in such a thing then somebody I love. Somebody who can look into these cold eyes, and bring them back to life, just to watch them supernova into oblivion, opening a black hole, and bringing all those around with them. And yet, I have ignored the final option, the most unlikely of those readily available, but still not impossible. The possibility that the one who becomes my vessel, I can return the favor for. A healing hand through the dark, a touch of warmth that melts the stone I use to build a barrier around my mind, allowing them to see behind the mask and into the abyss. And in that moment, I hope to find a release of acceptance and desire. But for now, I remain suspended in my seatbelt, because while the sky has cleared, and the rain has stopped, the puddles have become too large, and regrettably, I find that I have driven too fast. My brakes failed, my car is flipping off the road, over the guard barrier, I hit the ground once, then again as it flips onto the roof, one more time and I find myself sinking into the lake. The seatbelt is undone, but I can’t move, I can only watch, as the car fills and I watch the light of the moon fade underneath the diffraction of the water. I begin to inhale but all I get is water, the air slips away one final time, I reach for a hand, but it slips away. Further I sink, closer you get, and I lose consciousness and slip into the mansions of rest, a pull brings the moon back into sight, but the tunnel closes one last time, and the light escapes. Goodnight.