Dark roads at night do not speak to me. All
they know how to do is glare, and I cannot
see and I am stained forever. And while I
try to drive home, slowing, slowing down all
the while: I speak to you, calm and smooth.

I cannot stop myself. I do not know who you
are anymore, it is as if I had fallen asleep
and woke up somewhere different, not knowing
what the name of anything surrounding me
was, not knowing, not knowing: Forever.

Now I am awake, but barely. I am counting
tiles, I am still talking to you, slowly, I
am counting syllables. But you are such a
tease, for you are not listening, and I just
don't know what to say about this anymore.