it's a monday morning, cold winter's day, nothing outside is real.nn step in the car, turn the key, put on some heat, begin to feel.nn then i blink my eyes to make sure i'm me and think about catching a buzznn box my ears, clean my nose, got to get in gear becausennnn i've got a hell to be in by 8:05 and i can't find my head.nn and i can't figure out just why i'm here but i think i'm being led.nnnn i'm rolling down the highway at a safe and sane sixty pernn seems so easy, seems so right to pull over and jump the curb.nn the steering wheel begins to shift a little to my right.nn my palms become sweaty and i jerk in a flash of light.nn i slam on the breaks and screech to a halt.nn pedestrians are swerving, i laugh cause it's my fault.nn calm as can be i pull back into traffic,nn speeding towards my hell cause i like my violence graphic.nn the trees and leaves become superimposed on the skynn my vision is consumed with the greenness going by.nnnn i've got a hell to be in by 8:05 and i can't find my head.nn and i can't figure out just why i'm here but i think i'm being led.nnnn at 7:50 i'm stopped behind a school bus filled with pubes.nn wouldn't it be funny, i think, to sell the little fuckers 'ludes?nn but then a thought occurs to me from long ago when i was youngnn of the fear i had inside me at the prospect of barbiturate fun.nn oh, how the times they change, i cackle deep insidenn as i speed past that yellow shit puking carbon monoxide.nnnn i've got a hell to be in by 8:05 and i can't find my head.nn and i can't figure out just why i'm here but i think i'm being led.nnnn i've got five minutes to bolt, can't be late to my hellnn when that cold hits me again, who i am i cannot tell.nn what's reality is a mystery brought on by too much thought.nn my concepts collapse my sense of being caughtnn between the cold air surrounding me and the emptiness inside.nn my head is killing me, and i've got no place to hide.