It's 5:00 a.m in Texas. I'm half asleep writing. So this hasn't been edited, and not really finished.
It kinda flew out of my mouth so I just wrote it down. I don't know if it's even worth finishing. It started out as a poem, but quickly grew into something else, and I had no intentions of stopping it. Sorry if it bothers you with the unorthodox style.
I can feel the ghost in my beat seat.
When I look up in my rearview mirror our eyes meet.
I start to shake, and my stomach feels weak.
The ghost disappears.
I exhale in relief.
The road is getting blurry, and my friend besides me looks worried.
I remember him saying something like, “Hey, Evan. Do you want me to drive? You’ve been on the road for a while now, you can take five.”
I probably should have taken his request in debate.
I feel asleep at the wheel, and the car stampeded like an un-railed freight.
I remember hearing the window shatter and the impact of my jaw on the steering wheel.
Re-enter reality.
Under white halogen lights, the cliché image of a blurry doctor comes into focus.
I’m left in wonderment, an overwhelming sensation of unknowing surfs in.
It’s high tide.
I blacked out again, wondering if I’d die.
I’m awaken by a voice, I instantly picture the doctor above me.
I’m wrong.
“I tried to warn you, but you didn’t give me enough time to speak.”
Hovering above my bed reflected image, hands in his pockets casting down on me.
The ghost from earlier tonight.
The unexplainable parallel existence present in my ER room.
He speaks with a sigh, “Your friend is three rooms down, and he’s a little banged up. He’ll pull through though.”
“As for you, the doctor removed a lot of shattered jaw bone out of your mouth and you’ll be wired shut for quite some time.”
I hadn’t even noticed yet that I wasn’t able to move my mouth, and when I did the pain quickly punished me for my foolishness.
