the road that has no fork

the idea of possibility is a tomb for he who is directionless

this is where i walk, no retreat, no rest stop, only sun-soaked pavement

a wall-less corridor, a prison with no bars


i'm not sure what blinds me more, looking into the sun (there are no clouds)

or staring into the glaring blackness melting my soles

this road is not one full of choices

the choice was made before entering

i travel this road alone

no exits, no mile markers

time does not exist

the sun has not moved in years

slowly,

my brain's screws will loosen

and my head will splatter against the curve

of yellow that protects this road

from reality




i can't make up my mind

here: hold out hands

you take it