Hypnotic Vibes

Heat. Heat.
Near snakes on the white concrete.
The mirror shows a ghost I used to meet.
The silence breaks—and beast.
Hypnotic rhythm skips the we.
She asked me why the men I taste like chrome.
I told her some of us never make it home.
Die with arms of frequency unknown.
Hypnotic vibes—we ride it to the bone.
The base to be—the night to ride.
No headlights, just a glide.
The real view swallows the lights.
We don’t stop until the sun rise dies.
Speed is just a prayer with no reply.
The faster I go, the less I question why.
As for the shape of every goodbye—
If not a silence is my alibi.
She tra the stereo with paint and nails.
Said, “Drive me with the memory derails.”