Raindrops splatter windowpanes, split the skin.
Scalpels in pointed grass, sterile instruments.
Pitter-patter pavement, needles and pins,
Stoplights flood code red, numbed by anesthesia.
Wipers squeak, gurney wheels on slick vinyl.
Branches breathe toxins, pensive preparation.
Drips wrung from a full-soaked surgical sun
splatter the top of the mobile operation.
Gray matter runoff and vital organs.
Broken asphalt blurs a deep depression.
Count backward over the final pothole.
Steer straight towards a sedentary life.
Commute to stay alive.
Tunnel vision, final drive.
© 2022 | K.Hartless
A pseudo-slipstream sonnet that I wrote on a stormy day, water splattering car windows in a jam waiting for a crash to clear. I’d love to read your reactions.
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
❤️❤️
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💜 Thank you.
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It’s the perfect counterpoint. Thanks, Mr. B.
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better than just saying “misereable sod”, eh?
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It’s difficult to escape as a rip open the seams of my novel and try stitching it back together and praying it isn’t a frankenstein.
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Oh dear you are on a downer 😀
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“Drips wrung from a full-soaked surgical sun
splatter the top of the mobile operation.
Gray matter runoff and vital organs.
Broken asphalt blurs a deep depression.”
I love the imagery of this entire piece but I really like these lines especially. Gives an eerie feeling that I adore!
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Thank you so much for this encouraging feedback. This little grey cloud of a sonnet, and I admit it’s grown on me as I’ve pecked away it. I’m appreciative of your kind words.
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You’re welcome! 😁
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Absolutely loved this! Well written and descriptive 😊
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Thank you so much, Simone. I don’t dare do sonnets too frequently as all those syllables hurts the head. Do you enjoy penning sonnets?
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Lol, I can definitely understand that! You’ve done a great job at it now, although I honestly don’t love doing them as I prefer spontaneity and yes, as you said, all those syllables can definitely hurt the head 😂
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Yes. I must now wait to forget how much of a headache they are before I even think of penning another one 😂😂💜
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Lol 😂
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a strong, cutting sonnet; I wouldn’t want to be out in it —
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Thank you, John. Yes, sometimes you get caught up in something and the only way out is through. (Why is it so hard to be happy in the summer, sometimes? It’s as if the nice weather just worsens my moods.)
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that’s a tough question; I find the opposite though heatwaves can be a real downer —
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Indeed. I love the fall, and find the season best suits me. But I look forward to summer, maybe it’s just that it doesn’t live up to my expectations. Maybe the bar is set too high for the season?
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yes, K; set the bar a little lower like I am doing this winter; it works 🙂
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Very haunting descriptions that paint a wonderfully vivid scene, K! 🙂
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Thank you, Tom. It takes a traffic jam to really squeeze so strange a sonnet out of me. I appreciate your feedback. 😀
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Such vivid and powerful imagery evoked by your words. And I love the song and video, which I was not familiar with.
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Yes, Ghost Woman’s first album just came out this past week, and I enjoyed jamming to it in that traffic jam so much, I included it here… A bit secretive that group. I’m so glad you enjoyed the sonnet and the song. Cheers!
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It relates to me a pensiveness, and the anxiety of driving, especially on open highways. I like the start stops of the verse, which remind me driving in heavy metropolitan traffic. Still reflecting. Awesome write, K.
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Yes. There can be a lot of that around here. It alls tarted when those fat raindrops hit the windshield and it seemed to split it open like skin. I’m glad you enjoyed this sonnet, Jeff. It encourages me greatly, so thank you.
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Ah, I can see that split on the windshield, thank you for describing that for me. You’re welcome, K. Always.
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I’m glad you get it. Unsolicited explanations available any time. 😂💜You’re very welcome.
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😂💜
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