Drive

Sides slide by like wind shield wipers

Within a closed machine 

Nothing gets in or out 

But my own sounds,

I grunt and shift searching for my space

This passing time seems to speed 

Glances enter from the unwanted

The wanted don't notice. 

I'm not empty but my seat is

I could feel this forever

Falling and rising all together

I don't want to feel this 

It's just too much. Move on.