Listlessly dreaming of a flat open plane
A horizon so still that the sun never sets
Waiting for a turn in the road to break my concentration
Eyes turning beet red from the heat of the moment
Dry air beating against my parched eyes in an attempt to clear off the steam
Sick and twisted lines cross the illuminated barriers
Intelligence calls my own lines to be blurred
Solid as they are, drawn as they list-fully praise
Crawling on all fours they go, tail between their legs
I sit and wonder where the time has ever gone