Kit car

I know I am an emotional car wreck...
My brain races at break neck speeds...
I can't stop at the signs, I barrel through...
Half the time, I don't even see the signs, but they are out there....my headlights are so dim...
 by the time my eyes spot them, I am careening out of control, headlong into the pillars of my soul...
full on frontal impact...
With damage so great....I have no insurance to cover...no desire to repair....

So I muddle through with a defective body, beyond repair...
I am an eyesore to all those with beautiful spirits...
Not good enough to park on the front row...
so I stay on the outskirts, and inhale pollution...

I am not comfortable, my seats are bony and bare...I leak gas and oil, thru the constant flood of tears, barely running on empty...
Sometimes its just the fumes getting me by....

I get tickets over and over, warnings, cautions, but I stash them away in the glove box of my brain,....only to forget...never to heed...

I am constantly in a race with myself....racing to the finish line, but never getting there, always off course....always a flat tire of despair...

I have lost my title...I don't know who I am...what make? what model?  nothing distinctive and luxurious...

I am only a 3 cylinder, but my brain thinks I am an 8...Trying to live as an 8, trying to maneuver as an 8, trying to act like and appear as an 8...

nothing but a kit car...my brain....held together by duct tape and mismatched screws...destined for the demolition derby that will finally stop my vehicle...forever...