The Road I Keep Taking

Brake lights spill in the fogged-up glass,

a slow crimson bleed that doesn’t wash away.

The sun slices through grime like a dull blade,

cutting dust into sharp little blades.

Each morning, the same ribbon stretches,

knotted with horns, clouds leaking heat.

Cars stalled like statues, engines sighing

in the crawl of a road that never lets go.

The highway hums a low litany—

a witness to every small defeat.

Where lives wait in the clutch of stuck gears,

watching the same dawn twist stale in the mirror.

This road knows my name in the gritted teeth

of a day I can’t reroute or escape.

And I keep driving through the stubborn red,

believing the end might just wait ahead.