Offramp Cycle, Pattern 22

Broken glass under a poison half-moon
On some shattered highway that goes nowhere at all
Wraps around its prey like a concrete serpent in the acid rain
With fangs fastened around my throat
I choke on the fumes as the world in a blur
Falls away but leaves me clouded and hollow
Blood on my hands, and a thing in the backseat
That used to be human
Flying on the highway, trying to outrun me
Drained of thought, but the broken glass, it haunts me
Glittering like gems or sparkling like evil rainfall
That turns to steam in the heat
Ugly, hot, and shaking
With the thing in the backseat
It seeps through the plastic shroud…
As I push the needle faster and further
Coronas around the judging eyes of streetlights
Mad with thirst, almost enough to lap up iridescent rain
Just a little further, but the pupils of night are diminishing
Subtle
By the time the smog sets in to eat away the morning
I should be somewhere, praying that I’m dreaming