warm asphalt against my cheek

through gasoline-bent trips at night

my head takes turns

driving itself into level planes of sheet

fueled by letters carved out of lead in my mind

down memory lane I roam and I drive

and question the spins of those whispers inside

I recognize and greet blank mirrors ahead

fingers splayed in the dust

I lay myself in spaces of midnight dusk

playful shadows of no one there

I pull my hair and scream with no sound

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