"Beneath Our Steel Demons"

gray matter, never quite smooth enough,
telling me secrets, like where the dead fell.
endless lanes of compression and chrome, plastic,
micro monsters fending off others with horns.

supposedly we just dodged an alligator, somehow,
grass and trees not good enough shelter for its dry skin,
happier to be driven over, than settle with polluted drains,
water so brown it makes my eyes hurt and grow sad.

what was here before cement, paint, and tar of doom?
those are the pasts which call to me from deep below,
the bones of the lost souls wandering on empty,
assured not rest, but eventual addition to their pressed plots.

days like these make me yearn for rain, for snow,
a means to test silly wheel-wielders, to make them break,
uncontrollable zombies driving for time, pressing the gas,
avoiding such calamity stirs the clouds, angry, cheated, forgotten.

roads to every corner of this devoured realm,
exits and ramps leading to ungodly, forsaken men,
idealists building bridges rather than healing man,
the quickest route to eternal damnation: success, advance.