i see the distant images of doom
i see the distruction of self
a white wall, painted bloody red
with a hole in the center

i see red lines flowing up
i see the veins run dry
opened like a book
in a crimson bath

i see a taught rope
i see a limp shell
dangling from above
held by the perfection of the knot

i see headlights
i see the tall grille of a truck
almost unharmed, next to a pile of rubble
the beauty of twisted and deformed steel

i see the sky
i see the ground
i feel the wind
flying downward in a doomed spiral
and i smile