The Road

A winding thought in my mind
clashes with the road ahead
I burn for it
reaching speeds unknown to fools
treading in the space of angels
aging past my own death
I swing the wheel to avoid
my own stellar swath as I pass
myself.

The crushing weight of this responsibility
edges me towards disaster
but there is no use in fleeing
for the rambling truth of my existence
cannot be turned from or escaped
for the great belts of rage and hate
restrained by the scarred buckle of vengeance
play into the constriction of my
soul.

I endear myself to pleasure and comfort
only to ease the pain of my passing
from this road to the next
but the passing is too slow even at these speeds
and I find myself tweaking the radio of lust
seeking a new pleasure to infect my brain
and cloud my vision anticipating a calamitous wreck
upon which my dessicated corpse might finally find
release.

I can only hope at this point that
god has derived pleasure
from the blatant short cuts of my meanderings
and with great hopes I besiege the heavenly halls
with honking horn and thumping speakers
crashing out loud strains of Sabbath's namesake
long hair and devil's horns flying in the wind
and as I careen through those pearly gates gods says
"Well done my good and faithful servant!"