2 Cars in search of a crash
Jump red lights
On nights,
When black ice
Holds the heart in a vice-like grip.
Girls trip
By
On heels to high
For walking.
Tongues are talking,
“They are prisoners of their own making”.
Much head shaking.
Vehicles collide and slide
Down the embankment towards the river of unmindfulness
Where those who drink
Into forgetfulness sink
And remember not
That it is their lot
To constantly pay
the ferryman Who carries their soul away.
K Morris - Poet 
Wonderful! I really like this one.
Many thanks for your comment. I’m really pleased you enjoyed this one. Best wishes. Kevin
Reblogged this on O LADO ESCURO DA LUA.
Many thanks for sharing my poem. Kind regards. Kevin