• Devils in the ashtray..

    It seems his legs stopped working,
    Running till engine rusts.
    lungs filled with cyanide,
    Corrosion dry with dust.
    His breath stabbed the air,
    Nails from nail-guns dance,
    His feet never stopping,
    His breath an arc of lance.
    The valley filled ahead dirt street
    Into inferno city brick,
    The El Camino on the roadside,
    "Now that'd do the trick."
    A twist of his extension cable,
    A raw clack of laughing core,
    Robot slammed ignition locked,
    no need to close the doors.
    Foot pushed through plastic seats,
    Back slammed to the rear.
    The demons ran upon his side,
    His wheels screeched as he veered.
    His knuckles bulge black steel struts,
    Vinyl melting boil now,
    The El Camino screeched and screamed,
    The front a killing plow.
    The bickering cicada noise,
    Fell back along with the road,
    The Robotman let out a sigh,
    El Camino with his load..