Careen - Allie Keats

Audio: https://youtu.be/-E38TxZID2M

All-night drive with the windows down and the road screaming by without a sound. The radio’s spitting and hissing its static while the DJ cries out a hollow attack, and you could swear there is air in the brake lines. Skyscraper red and a war off the coast: your enemy is here. They’re blockading the port. Your radio burned itself out in the night from the fear on the waves, from the panic and fright. There is no steam left in the turbines.

The city is dying, it seems to me. The air’s getting thick now. It’s harder to breathe. Sodium lights and hot salty needles are blinding your eyes while you’re trying to leave here. The names are melting off of the street signs. A crawling leap into slick slimy sleep as the sludge rises up and the sea’s getting deep. Your captain is shattered, his shards are electric. The whimpering gasp of the city is pathetic. You sink further into the sea brine.

The car is a husk while your eyes fill with shells. Just what it means now you never can tell. Could be death on the wind. Could be salt on your lips. Could be the fading memories of the last mouth you kissed, so you careen to what will be the last time. A white flag is waved. You surrender the cape. You’re unable to feel and unable to hate. The sickening scent of the sea fills your lungs as you’re sucked fully under. You’re over and done and you could swear someone you knew nicked the brake lines.

Copyright (C) 2022 Allie Keats