Amongst abandoned parking lots with shaggy leaning buildings and charcoal black Windows,
Another interstate murders one more town, self-labeled country boys roar through theHeat and Death of summer in their trucks, blotting out the holy sounds of church bells as joints
Are rolled scrupulously out of bible paper and the ashes hover lag for a moment,

Sway and twist out the window into the gusts of an approaching storm as mere particles of a

 Once green crop down the street land atop a headstone with a marble hand

Pointing upward, up toward the skies and clouds birds all things elusive, sacred on this

 Planet of billions; the ubiquitous rural boys hang a sharp left on Foy Street passing

Railroad, barreling North East into the scattered graveyards of mobile homes and trailers

 Beat-down Chevy’s and farm equipment finally executing a daring left turn past the worn
Out community center pushing 80 nearly 90 on steep curves and dips as their glazed eyes

 Flash forward bringing a pale, red figure lying motionless in the road to their hazy vision,
Brakes squeal and the vibrations in the air rise chaotic: the interstate takes one more for its own,
Another tragic death caused by indifferent highways and cursory shifting identities of

Youthful brutes, brittle as glass, having had only superfluous-ness and shimmering illusions

 As role models, bathe in insecurities and dress up in petty narcissism while

Crimson floods the sullied earth and rivers turns to blood as night fell like a shroud.

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