Here I am, talking to the screen,
The vicious, luminous screen,
Exhaling the vision and suffocating the dream.
Scrolling through races that amaze,
I question if their worth was just a phase;
It all definitely depends where we head next:
Let’s hit the road.
The net is changing its pallet of priorities— I am not a fan.
My air conditioner is broken— I can no longer stand
The heat. The future shuffles it’s feet swiftly yet slowly
Into my headspace: the past then leaves and sends in vertigo.
Turn up Rodrigo to drown out sour notes,
Lower my shoulders as the vibe still floats:
The tumultuous road.
Race out into summer, feeling the pushing of air
Thrusts sides of steel and swimming through my hair
Out into the country, despite the blue sky,
More danger is coming soon, advertised up high:
You are all pretenders. Won’t you fight for what you feared was lost?
Don’t you remember the summer sky bleeding terminal frost?
Obeying surrender, forgotten warnings become severe.
Yet, the pretenders know, deep inside, the end is very near.
Here I am again, gripping the wheel,
The tethered steering wheel,
Letting me escape and piloting to how I feel.
The media replaces and remakes
The media disrupts and debates
What we tend to forget.
Are we up flames? I digress.
Deflecting blame? I’m obsessed.
I no longer care, I wouldn’t dare to appease.
They are all pretenders. They washed away their fight long ago;
Don’t seem to remember that orange sky, smoke fumes in overflow.
Maybe their revolt did not work; it remains foggy, unclear.
The pretenders have accepted that the end is probably here.
Are we up in flames? It’s fine.
Deflecting blame? It isn't mine.
There is no cure, but I’m moving on from this disease.
Here I am, holding the steering wheel,
The comfortable steering wheel,
Letting me escape and gliding to how I feel.
The media replaces and remakes
The media disrupts and debates--
Wait, what? I’m starting to forget.
Glide out into summer, feeling the calm waves of air
Grace sides of steel and flowing through my hair
Out in the country, despite grey skies,
Panic has subsided and I am feeling fine.
The winding road.
I am asking beautiful Earth to pull it together— and out of the sand.
She screams at me, that’s too much pressure—- an expected command
That defeats the enmity that persisted inside me
Into a rapture of ecstasy, those feelings I’ll let go.
Turn off Rodrigo and let silence loathe,
Ignorant bliss has won my vote.
The open road.
Here I am, putting down the keys,
My only pair of keys.
I have finished the route and completed the dream.
Living in the past is such a waste,
All of my complaints have come to an end.
I’m excited to see where the road takes us next.
Artwork: Kristian Zenz
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