Highway to Hadal

Poetry to scratch your eyes out to.

Craters made in flesh, torn from bone; hardly any human left shown.

Left blind.

Left to watch it all flood.

Leave my flesh painted across the 101.

rotting in the morning sun,

waiting for the rain, for the light to run.

From highway to hadal.

I stopped tasting anything but blood.

I saw the lightning strike your eyes.

blue

hue,

gold encased portend.

I didn't want us to stop; only for the pain to end.

flickering streetlights paint a dying yellow on black.

metal rusted,

older than my lies she believed but never trusted.

let me kiss the headlights on our way down.

A gun in the mouth; faster than watching each other drown.

Head on into that blinding light.

I won't find god in twisted metal, constricted flesh but in a few years I'll have something to write.

Stained red,

yellow lines fade.

Deep below the coagulation.

Where the all-flesh can meet ablation.

The overpass I went under a thousand times.

divined my time as well spent tapping my foot on those gallows each night.

One little length of rope I wore as a necklace attached to yours.

It wasn't till later I found out it wasn't mine; it was hers.

Left gone.

Blind driving on the 101 hoping to die with the sun.

Streetlights; I should have known their names, I saw them so often.

They knew me just as well as anyone grows to know their coffin.

Was the abyss leaking from the car or what remains of me?

Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash and edited by me.