Z) stub

Don't know why I don't like him
it's the same feeling you get
for tarmac you've fallen over on
but I haven't, yet.

Maybe its the potential
to cause pain in his eyes
like roads without signs
that, following, you'd end up
in the middle of nowhere
and hear werewolves

But I can't see over
the hill of his past
understand the cold lands
and tunnels through which it's coiled untouched by light
the fears that creep
across it in the night
leaving silvery trails
of shivers in his sleep

He laughs like a joyrider
who doesn't take passengers
leaves more innocent boys
like twisted car wreckage
in his wake
their trust the wings of flies
he once picked off because he could
not

I feel like a passive smoker
choking on this rope
of instant distance
exhausted hope
no green shoot can break

It's this despair I hate