[bloody kisses]: 558.Creative Void (short stories & poems).I Thought I had Half a Pack, a Radio, but I'm In Hell

What a sight it must seem; broken green eyes rolling into a grey salty storm staring out blankly over the even blander horizon of dust, dirt, and dried, caked soil burned red. A sight, of course, that is not in any comparison with the convulsion that set it into the fabric of moment, that all-knowing blanket as vast as the red desert at my face. Moving too slowly for notice at 60 miles-per-hour, the engine smoking as fast as my thoughts, spreading into…nothing and I stare out of the nicked windshield. The exhaust in the rearview is the only thing changing in mirrors and strained sight for miles and miles. Belief stretches to its limits as the E forces itself to the pointer of the gas gage screaming ‘untrustworthy’ as I find it unreliable, but not lying. The trash bag in the back seat rustles and whistles in the wind streaming in through the hole he bashed into the back window as I pulled away. I’ll be damned if I break down here.

[6/3/08]