i.
We pick up speed and fly off the highway towards that exit sign.
Faster, I say.
Go faster.
My words are beside me, confronting my previous contemplations. I make a decision based on the unknown to fly faster.
ii.
It keeps them behind as it cascades into beautiful and confused unison. But they put the snow tires on to slow down. All the while ignoring the beauty of continuous failure.
iii.
I tap a message into your shoulder blade with my eyes. It lingers and stings of truth and ignorance. I shift to reflect upon the archetypes of evil and how they came to be. Failure smells fear and I hasten to avoid what is real.
iv.
A realization that we are knee-deep in struggle. Those plows haunt us still, and we are thrown again into the realm of safety and success. I squint. You must be miles away now.
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