The Dark Highway

The black triangle stretches
Impossibly long,
Like an infinite piano
Whose tune is wrong;
Its sideways keys hum
A meditative song
That fetches the thoughts
Of foreboding trees,
With a sighing whisper
Of illumination
It silently reveals
The sedative that drowns
The stimulation
That frolics in fields,
As a sharp bending frown
Suddenly yields
White letters?
On a red backdrop,
Made blurry by weary eyes;
Too late to stop,
I realize,
The road serves to hypnotize,
Till violent swerves make
Rubber cries;
My blood congeals,
I choke on why
And then...
The obsidian curtain drops.