The Finish Line

Out of the lysergic mist
A mile marker appears
And he is filled
With a profound sense
Of unease
Like wishbones breaking
Into three equal pieces

All the years
Of being tossed around
By a falling sun
Have left him searching
For a side road
To suspend a world
Forever out of hand

No more of the
Split second understanding
Slipping into the fog
Before it can be snared

Wants nothing more
Than to never be teased again
And however it plays out
He finds himself
Looking forward
To the very last page