"Sometimes I think should be a truck driver. It would peaceful. Un-restraintive. Self-sustaining. And the road wide sky wider I’d do what people told me to do. Search for some Lost paradise or Crystal Springs. A journey with no end. Sleeping all cosy in my truck pulling their load taking it….. Maybe- maybe they’re as lost am. Or paradise. Pulling into dark rest stop off A87 looking at stars Reason that just drove 9 hours. “Because” they’ll say pointedly “It’s self-sustaining. Unrestrictive. Peaceful.” day I’ll tend agree. I rather than cooped an office am halfway nowhere Trying ease tiredness by walking. Looking over scrublands so harsh So unforgiving before they laid tarmac would’ve died of thirst Before reaching horizon. “Don’t always?” sadly. “Yep.” might say. see monsters fill urban myths. Unexplainable things hiding public toilets Long sharp noises from late night even angel. More likely meet The real monsters. vicious and barbaric stolen towns established xenophobia sand. Oh money course. could go insane on long roads Many do after all. latch radio Station slowly become radicalised against anyone everyone. lose myself audiobooks incredible Authors who words. Maybe continue own writing churning out masterpieces flops benefit solitude. let creative side burn away hot hot cabin whose air conditioner only works When it feels like it. There’s lot “maybes” road. too. But lonely stops where Talk stars cramped office building work 5 hope still spark poetic joy when scruffy desert call scrubland. fancy talking me. drive road strange In short- stay imaginative whatever end up doing."