Wheels of dread

 

On these winding roads,

the smoke and mirrors

of the universe are

framed

in cold steel fear,

as the rolling

wheels of dread slide

across the

glassy

surface.

 

Something untoward,

a figure

running toward

a cliffside pass,

I’m blinking

thoughts back 

like tears stuck

behind the glasses

covering my eyes.

 

I’m jolted into reality,

or insanity,

As the car veers

across lanes.

These open windows

into a world unsought

are slowing my reactions

to a crawl,

 

Did the figure fall?

Was there a figure at all

or is my mind starting to stall?

 

As I pass "The Crooked Boar"

I feel something more,

something in the darkness

watching as I drive by.

A right. A left.

A swerved collect call 

on our own mental stability,

calling to say it’s all too late.

Your fate was decided once

you left the motorway.

 

The rain streams down

the windscreen.

Wipers smearing

until view is awash

with snakes, scales of time

are hanging and

the lightning casts

a frightful sight. A silhouette

in the blood red moon.

 

This night is endless it seems

like one of those dreams,

nightmares,

where you wake

and are still there

deep in the dream,

in repeat,

only the scares

are more pronounced

the second time

around the track.

I feel the hairs on my neck, tighten

and hang themselves

from the moonlight beams.

 

I’ve seen this same

street sign creaking

in the rain

already

"The Crooked Boar"

appears to the left,

and in my mind, I see

a figure veer to a cliffside pass.

In red moonlight, a reflection

in a puddle of memory,

and I’m stumbling through

these thoughts of glass

as they cut ribbons

from my eyes.

 

On these winding roads

nothing seems real,

I pull over to stretch my legs.

Out of the darkness, a wailed screech,

assailing the senses.

I see a figure, a shape

silhouetted in moonlight glare, those eyes,

reflecting the light in the air, in steel frames,

a photograph moment

the fate in headlights glassy stare.

A creature not of this realm,

and he sees me as I see him,

I run as fast as my legs can take me.

 

All anyone sees is a figure

running

towards

a cliffside pass,

falling to the floor

beside "the crooked boar",

 

Steel framed

glasses, cracked.

Fractures

reflect a pool of blood

like ribbons

in the moonlight

 

A car sits,

empty

but still idling.