Petrified to be Godlike

The sky must be hollow.

Darkness was everyday crazy. She doesn’t know where she’s going, but she’s not lost. The distance doesn’t matter. She’s driving away from the monsters. The street lamps, silver. The black sky remembers the silver. She stares down at the pavement — she’s looks for hell, wonders if it exists. Wonders if it waits for her. She hates driving on the freeway. The wind is after her. She closes her eyelids- breathes in. The engine runs faster in the dark. She wonders why everything is always running. She counts the trees. There are fourteen. 14 minutes left of road. She wonders what flying feels like. She counts the stop signs as she drives into the dark. She doesn’t know where she’s going.