Brain · Spills

Pensive Screams

Crunching gravel bleeds the color of rocks beneath my traveling shoes.
Remote gas stations have lost their interest in monopoly's jest, they humor me.
Roads barren and hardly used speak their mind to me.
A fall becomes me when I stop.
I need to roll cigarettes and chew tobacco to be noticed here.
The can on the counter is full of brown spit; flies swarm wild like
carnivores with a taste for blood.
The cashier doesn't seem to notice the formidable smell taking
masterdom of the air.
Her hair is pulled back with a black rubber band, I wince as I think
of it being ripped out before bed.
Her shirt is X large, I think to cover what she hopes is left of her
self confidence
eyes stare back at mine; their implication painful.
Time won and time lost.
Repeating...
It ruined her soul