Animalistic

Crimson life glistens in the night on lunar white teeth
A hunter's eyes reflect beauty and destruction fixed over his prey
Praying for a release
A Wolf with blood soaked jaws and writhing body beneath
Spread eagle beneath a full moon in time for her moons blood
Animalistic cries and movements
Then

Nothing

Stillness in the dark
Rapid change
Hard to soft dark to light
Death to life
Heaving chests and the drip drip drip
Blood running down a savage chin
Rain running down a limestone lord

Desolation

The Illinois countryside passes by outside the window slightly faster than the posted speed limit. Cornfields stretch farther than you’d care to look, oceans of green stalks with small towns nestled in them like their own Atlantis sunken in poverty and ignorance. It’s warm outside and I sit in the passenger seat chain-smoking cheap red cigarettes while my friend drives. He gingerly packs a glass pipe with ground up plant matter while keeping a watchful eye on the road. We have no destination in mind, just a course plotted for happiness and we’re not pulling over until we find it.

“Do you want to hit this?” He asks.

“No thanks, I can’t. You mind if I have some of these beers though?”

“They’re warm, but go for it Man.”

"Thanks."

Drinking with a purpose that isn’t enjoyment while spouting poetry from books and crumpled paper scattered about the floor of the car and throwing empty cans out the window.

The demands of  “Another drink!” yelled above the sound of The Gaslight Anthem on the radio are matched only by the requests of “Another poem!” and the literary litterers drive on until dusk and until other minimum wage workers with minimum wage jobs and expensive tastes finish their shifts.

They join them on their journey, a search for anything that isn’t what’s right in front of them.

Walking through the streets of suburbia after dusk, it’s springtime in America and flags fly proudly outside of houses with floodlights illuminating them to keep their fear at bay. Carrying Styrofoam cups of gas station soda mixed with cheap whiskey, we put one foot in front of the other on yellow and white lines with no planned destination besides a state of separation of mind and body.

We are the children of a post-nuclear family (Sure my parents are happily married, but not to each other) wandering in a capitalist wasteland. The darkness covers our sins from watchful eyes and absent Gods. Tail lights and stop signs. Just try to act natural for one minute, because everyone’s attention is on us (Just like it fucking should be).

A “No thanks, I’m just looking around” attitude coupled with wandering and glazed eyes.

Finally our cheap Styrofoam reservoirs weigh next to nothing and laughter fills the empty streets. No longer adults with responsibilities or tomorrow to worry about but children racing the midnight train down by the tracks, knowing we’ll never win this battle but still trying our damndest.

An amphetamine heart will never rest and a whiskey soul will always thirst.