Monster Born

To publish this rubbish

I sink further into

You

You, who understands such cryptic babble

You, who drives me hard, down rough, scortched highways

In dead-night horror

With a blanket wrapped so forbodingly over head

No pedesrtians to frighten as we grind our teeth past

No such thing as an innocent bystander

We're all guilty of witnessing

We're each guilty, predisposed

Behind the wheel

Behind trees we hide

Beyond the horizon you shall charge

With me, as your torch-in-hand

To burn the monster, in it's lair

So we shall burn ourselves like a monk in protest

The monster in ourselves

Our creation

And it was born to die