Had a freeway life for a little bit,

Now like everyone I am back on it,

Gears are broken, confusion has spoken,

Bumpers for bowling, oil for glowing—

Packed away real tight is that shiny Samsonite,

Broken edges with better wishes,

Escape is a generation curse,

A future of a hearse for all to rehearse—

Gravestones for the forgotten, full funerals

Even get forgotten,

It is not arbrary this thing called territory,

For I am taking up your residency,

Yet for what? For another year to pass,

For more dreams to not come true,

Yes, I did invest in everything that was good

But it too now is past,

Wings broken,

Flying for a little token,

A hatchet to escape the wilderness,

For in it man does digress,

Pain is everyone’s friend,

Shall we too escape?

Carbon ribs on the five?

Snow caved in dreams?

Where is home anyway? Is it ever in the same place?

Moved us like a movie,

Yet there is no ending, no rolling of the

Credits, no bowing down to your regrets

We heard of them daily while identity

Was like the fog,

Younger, we cannot go back!

Despair while we repair,

To another year of lost metaphors,

Life is not a simile, life is never clearly

Explained,

Had a freeway life for a little bit,

Now I am back to it,

To the same things that we all do,

Mystery is never solving in me,

But it is a necessity