stream-of-consciousness poem (it rhymes!)
I wrote this to try to get my creativity back in action.
Success? (Y/N)
Fear of Fast Cars.
I’m turning and tossing the trash over train tracks I heed like it’s follow-the-leader.
I taper tinfoil that’s topping my top-hat-shaped lid that is foiling mind-readers.
I’m lonely I’m loaded unloading the laundry I kick with a lick of my foot.
I’m crawling and creeping it’s creepy the country has holds that are held with a hook.
The car has a crush that I can’t conjure up like I’m tucked in a trunk giving birth-
There’s a sick little shove, a slick suck in a hush, like worms eating themselves through the earth.
Eyelash and I lash and I look like a crash like a wreck like your cheque that I cashed.
My verbs are improper my past is imperfect my hesitant present is trashed.
You weave in and out and you leave me in doubt of your driving you drive me insane.
They move in a murder (you crow-like car-herders) to contain careful cars to their lane.
This tension is tense-less it senses my censure and doubts what I’ve done is defenseless.
I’d leave but I’m caught by these childproof locks, and this seatbelt is seating me senseless.