Unwritten ROARS never get heard

The blackness before me reminding me of the swim of stars in the big emptiness of the universe. And how like that I am. Drive in the dark to lift the thoughts and make them fly like birds in a hurricane..Scattered and pushed about. Pummeled.
I drive to drive it out.
I drive to drive it in.

And still.. the road lets me lose myself to the speed of the vehicle as I try to outrun my life, at least for 4 hours on the journey. Till I arrive. And reality shoves up the truth with no escape.

When I arrive it's will be hello's and How are you's and I'll have no replies. The truth to horrible to put up like a painting in a gallery for everyone to witness and critique on. I'll smile and look away instead.. Aching to run to the car and resume my fantasy in the hidden quality of the night and a long empty road reaching before me. But then the fantasy is as bad as the reality.

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Freeway
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"You know, Tori, I'm not sure where I'm going," Greg said to me as we drove along. The truth was that I didn't really know where I was going, either. All I knew was that I was on the road; the top down -- oh! my wonderfully rich companion! -- and the siren-like winds were in my ears. The darkness prevailing; the music blaring; we were blazing through our lives, then. We didn't know where we were going, but at least we weren't going it alone.
    New Jersey always looked scarier to us at four in the morning than it did at twelve in the afternoon. Somehow we had gotten onto the turnpike, and we were counting the cars. "They've all come to look for America,*" I heard myself say -- such the eccentric one, I am! Quoting folk music in a Porsche! We still had no idea where we were going, but at least we weren't going it alone.
    For him and I there would be no rest, nor home. Greg knew my inexhaustible appetite, and I let him feed me. I lived off his spontaneity, unlike how I had lived off so many others' mental illness. At the time, I thought it was his spontaneity that attracted me to him. At a later time I would find out he was no different than anyone else, but that's another story. We had been on the freeway, and not left any foot prints. We had lived, for a few moments there, completely free. Greg may have forgotten me, but I will never forget that moment.

*America, by Simon and Garfunkel.

freeway

the freeway incites me to keep driving,
it begs me not to exit.
the pavement calls my name.

& though i wonder why i let it
have such an effect on me,
why i allow this man-made maze
to mold my actions,
i still drive,
eighty-five,
never looking to the big green miracles.

& if i ignore them long enough,
keep my eyes straight ahead,
i just may find something novel.
i just may find the thing i'm looking for in all this mess.

As of 4.23.04

Obviously, a majority of the members don't read the mod posts, nor the rules. You know, I really wish I didn't have to be such a bitch when moderating this community. Have a nice day, now!
-Torimod.