All that I found were endless fumigated queues,
Street traders selling moods:
Over the counter feelings for the living dead.
Kidnapped. At gunpoint. For a six year drive.
Mincemeat. Chased down by feral beasts.
Call this a fast lane? Three will be four
When our destination reached! If still alive…
Cut out the light! In darkness our safety lies
Until he comes. Can’s breathe. Grip onto life…
I do not know, but feel his presence near.
He’ll make it. Yes… Today nobody dies.