these white vans
ride my bumper
even though my speed
is the speed of traffic
as if inching farther
into my back seat
will magically
double the rate
at which we tumble
into someone else’s dream.

white hot nails
puncture my guts as
the stress i try to bury
builds into a nest
of angry fire ants
and casual slashes
in moments of need
do little but draw out
the creatures lurking
just out of sight.

if these fucking
vans would get off my ass
maybe the thoughts
would calm themselves
enough that the bands
squeezing my chest
and electrical prickles
stinging my scalp
could take a fucking break.