Poetry

I sit near the back, head on the window, wanting to know what it’d be like
To be killed on someone else’s part, in these conditions, on this road tonight
The saddening thoughts excite me, giving me something to plan or foresee
I imagine every detail, each motorist fault, the fatality and debris
But I don’t want it to be instant; I’d hate not to know I was dying
I picture myself pulverised on the road, blood everywhere and I’m moaning and crying
The physical pain involved in my death will enlighten me; it’ll let me know I was alive
And then the eternal stillness to rest my soul, the whole meaning of life would arrive
I sit near the back, look into the window and see the smirk on my face so bright
And realise the longing threat is real, to be killed on this road tonight