Pieces of my soul
are strewn down the highway
as little white dashes
fly past the rusty black pickup.

My antique stereo
and a dog-eared sketchpad,
pages blowing in the country wind,
sit abandoned behind us,
disappearing in a mile.

My destiny is nowhere,
yet you drive me farther away.

Refusing to close
cracked whistling windows,
your hands are on the wheel,
forever in control.
You wouldn't even let me stop
for a book to pass the hours.
Still, invisible chains bind me
in my place, unmoved.

Next stop unloads
my shredded transcript,
a few phone numbers
and countless reminders
that life is not for levity,
only an inescapable oblivion;
merely counting the miles
as I'm dragged farther away.

My destiny was just a dream,
and I'm no longer
who I say I am,
who I used to be...