The Red Light

We don't want to spend our lives at a red light, waiting for it to turn green. We don't want to stare at that red eye, while our internal clocks superstitiously will it to change. Its gaze pricks us deep and sets our teeth on edge.

We don't want to spend our lives at a red light, while our minds imagine themselves ahead. We want to be at our destinations; we want our travel times to seem as naught. We want our engines to work rather than idle, to live rather than sleep.

We don't want to spend our lives at a red light, where blank fools twitter their noses and stare with empty eyes, where the corrupt world crookedly runs without us.

We were not meant for the red light.

We were meant to break the world.