... for Queen
Here come the days to pass in haze should I succumb to reckless insignificance or should I wait like a meteorite on display gazing at light from the quiet side
I’ve spent many days in the failed search of new names
groping in the dark for words and desires but these are the times of mediocrity vibes of senile gods and invisible masters
Yes, this is it—my intended regress
I drive a vehicle of 800 ill horses 3200 dressage worn hoofs
good for nothing, but slow motion posing
As I pass by your town in my broken race car Beep beep beep
Wind and me
slowly moving
I
you
turn
and wave Hey! It’s me Sorry I’m late
Wanna come for the end of history cruising?
We roll down the shore feeding the engine with scorn gently glancing at the tired horizon
Remember Thelma and Louise?
who drove off into the breeze
Yet we’re stuck in our middle class mourning
With nothing left to crash we feel the wind in our veils
and drive drive drive