White Line Fever

2:22 am. The endless highway is still except for me,

no cars accompanying me.

Misty fog clouds my mind as it lines

concrete walls. The white lines

on the asphalt glare at me under

street lights and dark skies hiding the moon under

their skin. It’s a sight I’ve seen for so long.

and I can’t help but long

for a change

in scenery, an excuse to change

the radio, so I can stay awake.

If I sleep, I fear I won’t awake

and I want this monotony to stop

but will this road ever stop?

I don’t want to drive any more.

I’m tired of dreaming, awaiting more

but I know how it always ends.

The temperature will drop

with the breeze and my stomach will drop

and rise alongside the car going up just to drop,

the fatigue will get me to drop

my guard against the night as my head begins to drop

and my arms begin to drop

and my eyelids begin to drop

and my subconscious begins to drop

me into a dream of something new, only to drop

me back to reality the next second, as my face begins to drop

at the sight of the still, endless highway.