Speeding
into the horizon
Dreaming of the siren,
wishing for her broken glass on the highway
It could be so easy.
The rhythm,
rhythm of an engine
always makes me empty.
I see the headlights coming at me
I can’t help but wonder.
Flying,
flying in slow motion.
Wind through my hair
and ripping through the scenery.
Oh, the wreckage
It is my secret need.
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