did you ask to take a roadtrip
down the pathways of my mind?
i mean, sure, but,
they haven't been paved in quite some time.
so don't mind the potholes in my memories
that the government couldn't afford to fix,
or the blemishes of existential dread.
where my dreams turn to roadkill,
like the crows splattered on the asphalt,
leaving gifts of survivor's guilt
and falling to masses of feathers, disgust and regrets.
i'll let you slip beneath the tangle in my mind,
just don't stare too long at what's inside.