Travelling the road,
at breakneck speeds
questioning everything.

Marvelling at scenery,
desperately ignoring
a fast approaching wall.

Cruising, gentle small talk,
like heads upon pillows,
our quiet endings.

We could break, you know.
Yes, we could.
We’ll be broken.

We could stop this.
We could? Could we?
We’ve had no practice.

On the spark of a whisper,
our calamity ends.
Silence claims the night.