The Final Turn

I’ll admit I’ve Thought About it The moment where The ground underneath my feet Reverses My life An old film strip Burning up after the last breath With the weight Embedded to my bones Of mere existence Leaking from My skin Like bubbles racing to the surface Sharp points Of windshield glass Like freckles on my face Numbing The feeling Of lukewarm red That makes me Look like A morbid drip painting The scissors They hold cut the one restraint Holding my body here Making me A puddled mess Of a being Crushed Up against The hardtop Where my future aspirations Wishes and dreams Are now just stains on asphalt