A spring across two Interstates through an ocean of cars
feet voicing pain every step as the sounds of homage and celebration grow near
Trees, concrete, and vehicles compete for my already overloaded sight
In the standstill of the dying day, their vehicles long since motionless
the drivers and passengers alike cheer me on
Faces of girls resting the beds of trucks with looks envy greet me every few steps
I greet them with heavy breaths and footfalls, letting my eyes smile for me
as I avoid the glass fragments threatening to slice through my shoes
I ignore the cries of my flesh, spiteful please of breast and knee
echo loudly within
I close my eyes to the, deafening my soul to my body
I do not feel the compression of my lungs, or the sliding of a ring from my fingertip
that will be lost amongst the gravel
A promise of womanhood yet to come
buried alongise flattened Pepsi cans and the burnt corpses of Marlboros
goes unnoticed as my feet carry me farther and farther from where it
might have come to rest
Carrying me towards the sounds of an immense chorus
bellowing in unison with a lone figure
on a stage still beyond my sight
The words though, familiar and powerful
seep through me and vibrate my tissues
as I reach the gates and join the thousands of others
who came here in pilgrimage to this stadium in Kansas City
to hear the words of mad prophets recited by the prophets themselves
one more time against the aura of gold lasers
flying pigs
a crystalline globe
and the chiming of clocks.