Coffin Of My Car

Coffin Of My Car
© Surazeus
2025 11 05

Isolated in coffin of my car, 
I explore endless maze of everywhere 
to see wild children dancing on young hills 
at mournful tolling of torturous bells 
so I can understand how angels feel 
when they fall wingless in the faceless pool. 

Arrogant by scale with precocious grief 
through mechanical progress to play safe, 
I dream how Death could preach electric faith 
designed through artifice of sacred myth 
since nothing we can do will change the way 
wingless angels pilot airplanes to fly. 

Since nothing beautiful in this world lasts, 
despite calculating what belief costs, 
we go beyond ourselves around this Earth 
to gather conceptual fragments of wealth 
in fierce competitive game to transcend 
frame of reference built on this wild land. 

Confused by beauty emanating bright 
from fractured mirror adjusted by fate, 
I still attempt to play celestial tunes 
through effervescent words of rolling stones 
excluding warriors of enchanted trees 
who wander lost in ever-changing maze. 

Impertinent treaties no god can sign 
reveal extravagant code through the stone 
that helps us navigate large crowded stores 
where curious angels terminate fake stars 
with luminous laughter of queried spells 
sold to influencers who attend balls. 

Respected wolves who wear humanized masks 
share secret principles on taking risks 
against suspicious gods of paradise 
who hire economists to write new lease 
by selling reviews without evidence 
our bodies are stuck in psychotic trance. 

Exhausted by how fast fate ruins love, 
I smear mental blood inside the sea cave 
without regard to nuisance I present 
when I shout in the Senate truthful rant 
as virtual reading of instinctive tales 
based on empathy for breaking weird rules. 

Uneven level twirled by symphony, 
more locomotive than the honey bee, 
projects my conscious molecules in words 
mistaken for chirps of demonic birds 
who follow coffin of my car to Hell 
where I find my bride by the forest well.