No Resurrection

Easter
Driving to work
Typical Sunday
Comfortable blues
In the skies

I refused to wear the seatbelt
Challenging death
Trying to look it in the eye

Could fly through the windshield
Throwing the glass
Like a great mosaic over the road
Little stars rushing over my body
While my cranium is dashed
Over the pavement
Pieces of my skull at speeds
Far beyond my body
Contorted with the grounds solid mass

I paint the black road red
And it collects my brain my thoughts
Everything coming apart
Over the gravel
Memories shot
Over the blacktop

Everything I experienced
Packed into the viens of
The vast road
Dust under passing vehicles
And blown away