too early to be somewhere else but here

Though I never learnt to drive
I’ve always had a car
Pink interior
Automatic/
Temperamental
Would go far
Sometimes it speaks
Says I’m mental
I kick it’s mirrors
It’s just an empty car
It revs still
Screeches, whistles:
‘And who d’you think you are?’
I’m my own vehicle
And can’t see from afar
But somewhere in the middle
Sits a fallen star
Layers of dust
And treacle
Bored mover
In life’s glass jar
Switching gears would be a miracle
I’d do a hit and run on my avatar
Instead I go where other seekers go
Down the street
Dive deep into a bar
I get consumed by alcohol
Then give it back to the tar
I see my dark being in it
In its ash end my cigar

Stand up slowly
Break another mirror
To open these scars
If I could drive
I’d crash these dummies
Who think they’re cars

This opaque limit they live in
Shouldn’t apply to me
This thick emptiness
Is off my radar

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