Seductions In Cars

Burning down “Mother Midnight”,  
getting drunk on the smell of car  
exhaust and the city streets,  
the cobalt void of night opens up  
within my brain,  
protects me from my sins committed under  
the sun.  
I like to take the long way  
home when I'm alone in my car at night,  
when the sadness takes hold,  
and the world shuts the fuck up  
long enough for me to have an  
original thought.  
I am sad most of the time.  
My anger is but a mask for my sadness.
I think about the women who came  
before and how much I WANT HER  
TO FEEL ME!  
I see her standing there trying to  
be sophisticated cool,  
trying to act like the world doesn’t affect her,  
with her pain reflected in her eyes like rolling  
thunder just before the storm comes.  
I want to fuck her pain!  
I want to hold her as she cries.  
I want to know her in every possible sense.  
I can practically taste her on my tongue.  
I think of all the other women who came before her.  
I've treated women like shit.  
I can still see their sad eyes  
searching for an answer cause they never  
expected me to do them that way.  
I had their complete trust
 
                     I AM SO SORRY! I AM IN PAIN!  
 
And I was sick and falling
And I was drunk and ranting
 
I’ve begun to think that perhaps I  
deserve my loneliness,  
that I should never be allowed to  
connect with another human being again because  
I destroy them.
Besides I've given away so much of  
myself over the years through meaningless fucking  
that I don't think there would be much left  
to give if I ever did meet  
the right one someday,  
perhaps in a library,  
or a bar,  
maybe even in a church on Sunday.  
I need FORGIVENESS before I can think  
about moving forward in this life or the next.  
 
And I was sick and falling
And I was drunk and ranting
 
I turn up the music on the  
piece of shit car stereo so that,
 just in case anyone is watching,  
they think I’m just another head banger  
from a godless generation of liberal communist freaks.  
No one will know the issues up  
for debate or the decisions being made  
as I drive along dimly lit streets  
like a ghost.  
Not the asshole who pulls up next  
to me at the red light giving  
me strange looks.  
Not the cop parked in the shadows  
looking to make his quota.  
No one will know just how much  
I’ve been hurt over the years or  
that I have hurt people out of  
a subconscious revenge.  
I chain smoke cigarettes till the ashtray  
is full and want to cry,  
want to just fucking fall apart,  
to make a mess of the cock suckers  
who were allowed to touch me.  
I need the sad gravel pit voice  
of Billie Holliday or Courtney Love telling me that  
she is dying.  
Surrogate mothers from a past life.  
When I was in Jr. High and High school  
I use to fall asleep to the  
voices of sad or angry women out  
of a need for comfort.  
I didn't know if I wanted to  
fuck them or incubate inside of them  
for 9 months.  
I had mommy issue.
I needed rebirth.
Sitting behind the wheel 10 years later  
with all my fear-pain- rage,  
I'm barely making it.  
I don't know what the hell I  
am doing any more or how I'm  
gonna get the hell out of the  
hole I'm in now.
This is as free as it seems  
to get for someone like me who  
looked at the world,
with all its’ beliefs about god and  
the laws created with those beliefs in mind,  
and couldn’t make sense out of any of it.  
This world makes me tired.  
This world makes me want to hide  
and not come out again till the  
Christian apocalypse,  
we learned about in Sunday school as children,  
has come and gone.  
At least at night there's less of it.  
At least in my car I get  
to choose what bullshit to let in  
and which to flatten under my tires  
into road kill.  
And round and round it goes in  
my head till I make it home  
where I’ll sit up and drink-smoke-jerk off  
unashamed in the privacy of off the  
womb I’ve created behind these four walls.  
I might even get some sleep before  
the sun comes up.