Exit roads

The road bends and snakes out from the enormous concrete wasteland, this summers night;
I see the avenue of lights blink onwards into the inky darkness ahead of me, a live, coiled, breathing, sentient darkness liquid and raining on the lights that stain the inner walls of my car with frail shadows.
I look back at the buildings I leave behind, I see little boxes of office lamplight and I wonder about the people still in, the lives they come from and go back to, like invisible threads binding them.
I wonder if there is a way to see these invisible antennae, this webbing around all of us, and Nature always wears the colors of the spirit,  if I could see it, would it be colored or black and white, would it be rich monotones based on the lives we lead and the passing clouds of thought and feeling that gather and disperse in our heads.
Its here, that I make my first drink and sense the familiar, artificial saw-dust taste of the diet chaser and the mild burn of the alcohol, my nerves light up for a moment and sink into a pool again, a soft, glowing pool of numbness sewed together with the music
I play, trippy 80s synth pop, beating meandering lyrics and quaintly melancholic tunes out into the down of the road I now speed on; the night begins to take a crystal shape as these pieces, chunks of consumption, fancy, release, memory and romance fall into each other and etch a map, a map stretching out into the blurred maze of the sky, the city, the stars and the humm of the avalanche of lives around me.

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