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Adam Mott Nov 2015
I drive too fast on the highway
Close my eyes when I cross the street
Occasionally I let my feet off the pedal
Hoping that the transport and I meet

I'm just driving fast on the highway
Aiming for the sea, warm and foreign to me
Past the hills and the odd trees
The people with accents that stare at me

I'm just driving fast on the highway
Running from my troubles
Attempting to drown out my worries
Instead, I can see them in the mirror, steadily behind me

I'm just driving fast on the highway
Hoping you notice me
Adam Mott Nov 2015
She placed me on the edge of the ocean
A precipice of promise, dark and deep
Waves which could offer much to me
Release, adventure, an epilogue

She could have pushed more gently
Rather, it was a rough suggestion
A gift of will that attempted to blame me
The bird specifically, chirping words hurtfully

A show must go on
However dramatically, the cost of my anatomy
Heart is gone now, sold for parts
Stopped working months ago,
A deficiency with our art

You perform, I create from the heart
We both sing but you had an earlier start
Every love for which I stumble
Eventually lets me fall
Every phone I find
Has a limit to my allowed calls

The grass is green, the sky is grey
At times I wish this was my final day
Not for hate or for pain
But simply to end the questions that plague my brain
Adam Mott Nov 2015
In the shadow of your heart
Dancing madly to a song I vaguely remember
The darkness and coloured lights consume me
All blown up, bigger than life

Now I'm gone, now I'm dead
Always a part of such emotional twilight
A figment of imagination
Lying to myself with vigor and fight

Finding my way back from Heaven,
Ignoring the sound of your beating heart
I stay in the dark, reading

The stars and the moon tell me it'll be okay
Though I know my heart will ache from that day
A shadow cast upon it's read and weary face
Love that cannot be cast out
No dawn from this twilight
I brought you home, all the way home
Adam Mott Nov 2015
All the fish know what you did that day
They told the dolphins and the whales
The sharks were present, to no avail
To them, you are the boogeyman

Claws deep with colours of paint
Lips a flame with much the same
Eye touched up and down with brush strokes gentle and fierce
Eyebrows plucked and ears pierced
Covered in the scent of a thousand chemicals,
Feet bound in leather bands
Ready to claim your victory over man

Seething with shallow banter
Narrowed in, deciding prey
Out you pounce
Certainly not a daughter of the day

Something different
Dark and perverse
With emotions flat, stuffed in your purse
You make your choice
You're the worst
Rawr, growl, purr, pow
Adam Mott Nov 2015
Run it back
Fuel the ice in the chamber sockets
Deliver fish to bears of intent
Watch a salad become a man

Position the camera gingerly
Record your iconography
Melting now, a glacial hare
Vast and galloping
Laughing in a pattern of mystery
Adam Mott Nov 2015
I am tired
By January, I'll be dead
But still not free
Music will play
The seasons will change
Nobody will remember me

But for now, looking at a severed tree
I would taste the sap with eyes of honey
Impassable is this position
Down to the ocean within the sea
All my ground had left me

All the November rain was snow by then
Three years ago, the law of man
A mall full of memory
Tastes like what I wanted it to be

Spring but a creation of modesty
I am the sea now, it has become me
All they wanted, all I was
The sea, the deepening of cold and dark
Of me
Adam Mott Nov 2015
The streets are bright neon
Loud and pink
Purple surging through the cobblestones
Fast and rhythmic, like the sound of a thousand heartbeats
Colours coalesce and scream out
Noise is taste and violent vision
Figuring into the minds eye, a million different anecdotes of a past gone by

A Husband and his Wife entering their house, beyond a white picket fence
A soldier and his last breath shared with an old photograph and a six dollar lighter
A payphone call made to a time when somebody still cared

With their faces towards the fence
Looking in on a familiar little scene
A TV in a basement, a couch nearby
A wooden duck and some magazines
Eyes aching, throat burning
The fence becomes you

The sense of memory, vibrant and overpowering
Questions becoming creatures, the landscape a picture of confusion
The other side, barren and clear
The only feeling left after hope and fear
Not a moment wasted
The city a tear
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