Urgency of the professional woman

 Lucy drove her car to the family batch house. I read nervousness in her hands gripping the wheel. Driving slightly out of control. I read fury in her gestures. Taking the corners much too quickly and almost hitting the lamposts closest to the sidewalk gutter.
She looked angry and panicked at the same time. She was going to crash and seemed bent on causing the accident to come. Even though it was a thought inside her head and not outward desire to just crash.
She was going to kill me too. Her side passenger.
We approached the family house and she accelerated toward the house, killing a child who was playing on the front porch.
She ran out of the car as I remained inside the car, bleeding from a head wound and my nose, something was wrong with my leg. Lucy was a maniac and was throwing an incredible tantrum.
The child's mother came running out of the front door and mirrored Lucy's strange emotional appeal and dramatic expression. Screaming and shrieking on the front lawn.
More and more blood poured out over the seat.
"Is this my fault somehow?" I thought to myself.
From the second story another woman in her seventies looked down at the incident. She nodded as if she had been expecting it all. 

A sprint.

 I ran through hell. A suspended glass corridor. Under a huge pit of fire.
Sparks fly like birds, brimstone drops and cracks the glass.

I sprint across the glass naked and burning.
The pain reaches every centimeter of skin.
I scream and make it to the other side.
Struggle with the door.

Before me stands a mirror exposing all
Every monster and demon who has latched on
During those days when everything was about surviving
I turned to avoid the ugliness

Yet behind me another mirror appeared
And showed me infinitely evil
Like I was just getting started
I woke like a sword swinging

Burn marks up and down my body
hell so incredibly real
The world a simple game
Dressed up as complex

Lanky and free

 Happy go lucky
Lanky and free
The man with several women

Who wakes when he wakes
In a barn with a batch attached
Cigarette lit before coffee

A cliche repeating joke
Mixing nostalgia with stubborn low wit
He gets into his old rusted out datsun

Winds down the window 
Hoiks a loogie
Pulls a burnout

Meets the shitkickers for a snack and joint
Nothing's new the world is small
The urgent child is still navigating his restless mind

Danubian wrath

 This stretch of the river is trecherous
The riverbed littered with broken wrecks
This part, many a boat capsizes
Taken down before they realize
Whatever lives under its banks
Unseen giant teeth tug claws yank
Consumes the helpless
surface blood boil mess

The current is not natural
Flows contrarian and lateral
water courses randomly through
Convincing eyes that lies are true
Like a hungry serpent searching
Bodies of drowning merchants
through the dark depths 
among the old wrecks

This measure of the river is deadly
Something curls willow roots warily
Stay inside the safety of your boat
Grab rudder, pray, you stay afloat
If you hear a knocking underneath
Attend it not less cetain death

What they say

 what they tell us in the night
What they want in the day
What they hint at on the phone
I try not to be ashamed

I always want to say more
But it's just soft sand
Wanna be rock you adore
Wanna be grand

What they tell me underneath
Subtle hints I cannot read
They tell me they're a feast
And that I'll soon feed

Tell me through telepathy
 I gather each piece carefully
Digest, misunderstand predictably
What they say is lovely

Abandoned in a cinema

 Is there a jar?
It's too sweet in here
Each surface is sticky
The abholstered seat, furry 

The sugar seems to have its own smell
The boiled candy awaits fingers
Like a cinema screen awaits eyes
The aisles littered with popcorn

Sarah ajar
Waiting for your mother
Sarah stands and the seat flicks back up
Sarah sees the closing credits come down

But where is mother?
Where is father?
She has been abandoned
With just a jar of boiled sweets

The speckled cat and the road

 Ive seen the speckled cat
The treasured wall where it would bask
I have seen the signs
The road is long, the road will wind

I've seen the speckled cat
Found the rare penny
Rusted from the rain
stuck inside the tar

I patted the cat 
the past spoke
It yelled
It drove onto the shoulder

I patted the cat
The past whispered
It calmed
It breaked toward the intersection

I've seen the speckled cat
It meowed at my arrival
It stared at me
As if the road itself was mine