weekend

the scars of skin
and lips burned

lid-less
now
sight-less
and deemed
tasteless

congested
along highways
my poor soul
another ten car pile up
rubber necking
the drunken driver

she looks like me

scorched to the point
of twice shy

i only wonder why
hands shake
too hard

to hold

and escape seems
so easier
and hiri kari
sweet and secular

scented and capsulated

when will
my gears go back on track
when will i spit out the
right words and
sway the way i am
to be intended
and pushed

this drive
this swish
this hell-bent
hell-bound
pretty lady
with the deepest damselled
curtsey

the green-tinted
iris and spotted pupil
the gaze seeking assistance
then looking away

when will she land
this BQE-BBQ of flesh
so pre-determined

she glances over shoulders
and invites you so close

follow