Driving South

Wipe the white foam from the side of my mouth.
Get the fuck off the median,
and keep driving south.
Because south is where surrender lies,
with cotton balls and rubber ties.
And, despite the death toll,
right in front of our fucking eyes.
We march along,
as if we’ll never die.
These drag down demons,
seem to cure my purest feelings.
So, I’ve been digging endlessly deeper,
with nightmares of glass ceilings.
Steering…? HA!
I ain’t ever heard or learned the concept.
I just stuck fingers in the fan blades, and freed fire where the bomb slept.