the conrete barricades
laid in uneven rows
jut out across the center
and i cannot follow
the road is driving me
farther from her
farther from sane

home is a just a hazy
recollection of pains
i burn my fingerprints
across the atlas of hope

following out of state
plates as they flee
this present state of distress
repressed in the throes
of driving into the sun
or off of covered bridges
desperate to taste your lips
before it all simply
fades away