I’m racing off in my car from the fire, 
          watching smoke billow up and out away from me, 
                       behind me, 
                                 anywhere that isn’t here. 
      Fingers twitching, 
                   lips calloused into a smile, 
       the dream lingers on and on for miles. 
                          Here is home – here is control. 
                                 Here is me.
          Tear me apart and make sure only the strongest parts
                             survive; they’re all that’s keeping me here, 
                                                 aren’t they? 
    Bully the submitter into submission, 
            don’t give it too many moments to spare.
   Time is the enemy. Only speed can suppress the end. 
         I’m passing through red lights, speeding through 
                            roundabouts,  
  I wake up with my hands on the steering wheel.
                 “Fuck”
            Time catches up, mostly blurred by the speed of the 
                                                                      impact. 
      Slowly, at first, I wake to the catastrophe behind me, 
                     the memories don’t find a stream, but my body aches
                                    from its own 
                                                       destruction. 
          I don’t slow down, I find shelter in the speed, 
                            Soon the memories are there with me, riding shotgun, 
                       in the passenger seat, telling me things they 
                                                                  don’t want to say, 
                                                 that I don’t want to hear. 
                       I speed up, 
                                    drive straight, 
                                                       kill the weakest parts inside of me,
                       and crash into the building at a speed of 190. 
           Six kilometres down the road, a boy emerges from his home,
                                  hands cupped against the sunlight, he watches an ambulance
                                                                      speed by with its sirens loud and 
                                                                                                   haunting.
                                                                                                                He cries.  

Published by Charlotte Griffiths