Engine’s All Go

DMS · 01-30-2019, 12:57 PM

Engine’s All Go

My vessel travels at paces quicker, along the drive I peer out and engrave stipple on the pavement.
The road’s opaque, final stop’s a swan song, the lonely thief, the cause a lost cause, the little engine with hidden dark n achin’.

The pit stops dolor, the snack break is brief. The goal is the last place to be? No
The lanes thin, the lines dim, the frame gets divided, the path gets beclouded and unique.
I could allow my autopilot to come free. What grace and powerful piquè.
I allow the AC, I allow the headlights be shut off, I sit in solitude.
The voyage has become passive, and yet it feels gritty, all askew.
I have forfeited my aim for lack of bow.
I have forfeited my spray for lack of rose.
Became lame for lack of pose.
My light for seeing and songs for hearing.
Yet I stutter to switch off the device which entangles me. Why?

Another pit stop.

I stay a bit, I see the papers and sweets section, I contemplate the impeding terrain.
Grasping the distention, the distance, the journey, I see it as plain.
The work-horse lays to feed, as I sit and watch it eat. I take a seat by the pane.
I play the beats n I stay, I view the map, the devise is unlatched from the trap.
The gate swings open, and now I twist the keys.
The lanes widen, the frame brightens, the giant mystery.

01-30-2019, 12:57 PM	#1
DMS DMS—Diddled My Stick Join Date: May 2018 Posts: 1,104 Rep Power: 0	Engine’s All Go Engine’s All Go My vessel travels at paces quicker, along the drive I peer out and engrave stipple on the pavement. The road’s opaque, final stop’s a swan song, the lonely thief, the cause a lost cause, the little engine with hidden dark n achin’. The pit stops dolor, the snack break is brief. The goal is the last place to be? No The lanes thin, the lines dim, the frame gets divided, the path gets beclouded and unique. I could allow my autopilot to come free. What grace and powerful piquè. I allow the AC, I allow the headlights be shut off, I sit in solitude. The voyage has become passive, and yet it feels gritty, all askew. I have forfeited my aim for lack of bow. I have forfeited my spray for lack of rose. Became lame for lack of pose. My light for seeing and songs for hearing. Yet I stutter to switch off the device which entangles me. Why? Another pit stop. I stay a bit, I see the papers and sweets section, I contemplate the impeding terrain. Grasping the distention, the distance, the journey, I see it as plain. The work-horse lays to feed, as I sit and watch it eat. I take a seat by the pane. I play the beats n I stay, I view the map, the devise is unlatched from the trap. The gate swings open, and now I twist the keys. The lanes widen, the frame brightens, the giant mystery.