Waking Vision - 2011/08/23

It is the vision that stalks
Striking whenever it pleases
Promising a fate more grisly
Than a multitude of diseases
Despite reassurances of fear
I control it and it is still
Except the other participant
They not beholden to my will

The vehicle rises off a bump
Hurtling through empty space
Right through my rear window
Quickly smashing my fat face
Meanwhile my neck is snapped
Augmented by a fine red mist
Coating the front windshield
That forces of impact missed

This is the part where I die
Yet that never really occurs
Nor have ever ticking clocks
Turned the vividness to blur
Here I write stuck in a loop
Where a fear is proved empty
Still unable to fully ignore
The assailant I will not see

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