The flouresence lights are such a stark contrast from the yellow street light like hellos and goodbyes that interrupt the miles of dark highway I drive nightly, that lead me always, to where I had started.
Is the quiet road worth the bleak amount of cotton faith that it lines in my pockets with? Is this giant asphalt circle worth the giant madness circling inside my mind, pushing me further into solitude?
Can I break free from this gravity pulling me further down my internal spiral to an endless pit within?
The road is only ever a friend or a foe to the extent that it is either greatly hated or loved. God like or devilish. You never just feel mutual about the road. It is one’s wings or one’s chains.
it can be a concrete reminder of the distance between you and your destination, a love or a vacation, with each mile your thinking ”I can’t reclaim that 60 seconds better spent at my destination”. Every hill becomes a mountain and every plain becomes an endless sea. Man’s chain to time. The road and car his prison sentence. Rubber tires remind you of friction slowing you down. Every sight outside makes you wish your term was up, just to walk the streets freely. Your eyes become sever punishment, a constant reminder of what it was like to be free and where you want to be.
Or it is freedom. Mans great escape, his brand new beginning. Man’s unseen wings. You are flying high, rubber nonsexist, a speedometer counting feet. Your eyes salivating at candy sights, candy trees, candy bridges, candy skies stretching forever and ever. Everything is dessert. Everything is the sweetest your eyes will ever taste.
I ramble and ramble like an open road.
