The Visit

Hair by DOT, black lens that seeks,
idling in on a midwinter morn;
chilled by speed runs, ahead of the storm.
Thru the gates of feelings untold;
lives unremembered; lack of fame and gold.
Respect for the fallen, out in their rows,
demanding witness; me, El, and crows.
Shut down El, hear the tick of her breast.
She don't like that feelin', just wants the run west.
Check wind and sky, clear grit from my teeth,
light up a smoke, stamp warmth to my feet.
Silence remains, sky graying from blue;
better get this done; got miles to do.
Memories cling, memories draw,
days of chase, catch and claw,
spirits alive, tangled and raw.
My friend lies cold, seasons mud and dust.
When El is gone, I'll be visiting rust.
Remains are just that? Fuck all the cost.
Whatever it takes; keep souls from the lost.
Flowers from past, old and forlorn;
they were all good days, that,
and where they're all born.
Brighten the pile, touching stone planted ground,
seeking awareness, denying all bounds.
Ducks approaching from my 3, heading south of west,
searching oasis from the storm, feed and lucky rest.
Forever is forever, with taste just as strong;
El. Chase me down a duck, food, warmth, and maybe song.
El's the sound I need to hear,
switch, crank and roar, sure click to gear.
Later pard, and not in jest,
deaths not the way to get some rest.
Back ovn the road, today its mine,
and El runs free, fuck the limit sign.