a familiar drive

Why would I throw my lifeless body into something that I've seen people die from? I find myself and others frequently convincing ourselves that we're a different story. It won't happen to us, because we aren't them. How foolish we can all be for that. Ragdolling down the countryside into what will surely be my end, my limbs flop and twist in undersirable contortions.


In my dreams, I wander. It's no different than what I do in my conscious state, but in my dreams I feel no shame. When I'm awake and answering questions I feel guilty that I don't know what I want. My dreams however leave me wandering down empty corridors. Aged pillars decaying and crumbling left and right as tiles crack under the weight of my indecision. Here it comes.