Spine

I wake on a cold couch [  ] 
in a cold room 
and I am a soft nobody [  ] and  
I am a snake [  ] and 
I slither into the car [ ] and 
I drive without passion   

past fields of green [  ] lust 
as I exhale smoke [  ] and 
take off my skin [  ] and simper 
at the reds [  ] 
I drive violent [  ] without stopping

                and I lie in perfect stillness [
] on a cold couch [ 
] and I ache for forgiveness 
and [  ] everything [  ] everything 
has gone to bed [  ]

but I wake [  ]
on a cold couch [  ] on a cold night [  
] and I die in bushes 
like woodlice [ ] and I drive headless [  
] without brake lights 

[  ] and I am a cold room [  ] 
and the road 
[  ] wakes within me  
and the moon [  ] 
is a gooseberry 
and the road is gone 
sour [  ] and I am driving 

for many miles [  ] driving 

for many [  ] hours  

As seen in: https://www.palavermag.com/poetry-3