Author's Note: This is about Emperor Time.
The roads ahead, they're color-coded plus
Contrasting in their textures — one is flat
And syrupy as chocolate, no rust,
Unlike the other twisted scarlet path.
You contemplate a second, maybe less,
Before you swivel left and sprint alone.
Past craters just like Mars', you retrogress
In landscapes scarce with water and no phone.
You run so far you're alien to yourself,
For hours in reddened realms obey no glass.
Before too long, you're sand-blind, on the shelf,
And praying soon you'll pierce the veil and pass.
So take a minute's break before you switch
From brown to red like an impulsive bitch.