reason commands, dictates, shoos

the bus dashes across high mountains

eager to drown the horrors of death

whose yelling, screaming, beatings

echo eerily around these vast canvas

wrinkling, convulsing, it is not wanting to breathe

strangled the white face fades, blinks, erodes

with sand paper rough on hands, chilled spine

grasping a desktop – bursting into flames!

and the tires shriek, they lunge, they smell

of burnt tires when chains wrap lungs, voices

are buried deeper into the mountain, coffins are no

longer needed when a tirade of repressed steam hisses

from one open vent: shut it out now; reason hammers

cognitive functions gear to first speed, hate, love, red

they bent a bus till the skeletal shape looks no more like

mere spirits unable to wander, descending into valleys of life

but the density, the gravity drinks out light – no more.

horrors, mishappen beasts from mist scurry about, eager

to do biddings; yes sir, no ma’am with daggers sticking into

reason’s hindsight, reason’s ingenuity, reason’s smooth machinery

but the heart it is dead, dead

whining, tugging, struggling the three fates come together once

again to cut the cord. and this time passion took red, love,

hate, black digging till the last piece of hand still waving – HELP ME.