deepundergroundpoetry.com

The Turn

The lights, closer still,
seize me once more.
Caution bleeds into the night
from blinking amber eyes and,
it occurs to me
that there is reason in their silent vigilance,
and it has eluded me.

Reaction is of no avail.
I rip through guardrail like paper.
Indignant, the eyes merely look away.

But I know they are behind me now,
and I likely will never suffer their gaze again.
For now, I am petrol, floating on water.
I am bloodstained rock, wreckage and twisted metal.

A kinetic symphony makes more of my potential
than I ever could dream alone.
I am shrapnel; metal, plastic, and bone,
intermingled and embedded
in driftwood and sand.

An entrance, true to form.
Explosive, and devastating as always.
Another testament to strengthen the conviction
of the warnings the lights now flash
for the sake of the attentive.[/font]