these roads

i know these roads
as intimately as i once
knew the arch of her spine
yet i don’t pay
nearly as much attention
to hugging these curves
aimlessly driving from
same place to same place
a repetition of cyclical
disasterpiece theatres
living the same infernal
longing in a corkscrew
pattern ever inwardly
because the words love
to lodge themselves deep
in vocal polypitcal woe
the ugliness of yesterday
only reflected in my
insolent hazel catastrophe
leaving a faint chemtrail
of beauty cascading across
the wide open skies above
i know these roads like the
back of her hand as it
gently carresses my cheek
trying not flinch back
from the unrequited need
burning like fuel in the tank

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