i will race
across the city
from traffic jam
to traffic jam
only to sit
in a parking garage
watching birds
in a constant cycle
of going nowhere
to accomplish
absolutely nothing
except be alone
with a different view
no music playing
just the same
feelings of
reckless
self endangerment
as the ground shakes
with each new
occupant in hell
life is a
succession of
rapid movements
with long
indeterminable
stretches of silence
only the crumbling
strata of everything
falling down
around us seems to
break the spell
temporary catastrophes
seeking permeance
in the emptiness