Fleeing the demons of vision kills. Specimens can't jump the pin that traps them, with cruel perfection, like the shroud of the words I must spin. I press to the window espying glad letters collected to garner the Win. Road signs' and license plates' alphabet palette lacks consonants huddled to aid me. Oblivion's snip holds my freedom.
Anxiety fuels the looped treadmill road trip.
The next stop is always 'Good Bye'. I use so many words because a feeling isn't simple, but attention seems a burden we Americans won't shoulder. Stunned by your third degree media burn, unable to reach you, I have to resort to a letter tsunami. Racing past me to judgment, you blur the wet ink of the love that I hoped to express, without flourish, through space between over-long lines. I use too many words because my heart is overflowing and can't edit without drop of detail key to meaning in my soul.