Divided Highway

Desperate for change but driving familiar roads, past places that hold moments lived. Each street unravels new reels, each streetlight focused on a stage from the past and each turn seems to lead me into some kind of unreachable, unchangeable facts of yesterday. Mistakes pile so high behind my eyes I can barely see beyond them, into a sane tomorrow unhaunted by my efforts to reconcile the errs that still mock in hindsight, and tint my rearview with loathsome shame. And I acceletate... leaving no goodbyes, taking all the regrets deserting one existence for another, forsaking times when I had been good enough, strong enough, loved enough to battle fate and circumstance with a passion that had nothing to do with how tomorrow looked, but how the one day at a time ended. But I can't drive far enough out of my divided life to escape shadows crying treason, a guilty concience. I'm scared to death of my faults, of the rejection around each corner, of being too late to belong, too far away to be lovable. My thoughts never seemed so alive, biting at the heels of my happiness, chasing me down highways I can't travel all by myself and yet, I can't ask the forsaken to ride with me to make a widow of either existence.