R A G E (nothing can stop me now because I don't care anymore)
So, I'm driving down the highway some twenty miles over the speed limit because there is still too much traffic to allow me to crest eighty. I'm driving down the highway at 75 mph, weaving between cars, and shivering.
So, I'm driving down the highway at 75 mph, weaving between cars, fantasizing that I will clip one and we will spin out of control into a marvelously fiery wreck and someone will end up having to identify my body by the single wisdom tooth I wear on a chain around my neck. I'm driving down the highway begging for an accident and the heat is on full blast.
So, I'm driving down the highway at 75 mph with the heat on full blast and my right hand is resting on the dashboard. I like the way it burns. I imagine the flesh curling from my bones, crinkling, peeling, and spiraling into the air in wisps of black smoke. I'm driving down the highway savoring the self-inflicted pain of my smoldering palm pressed against a hot vinyl dashboard and I'm shivering.
So, I'm driving down the highway at 75 mph, enjoying the way the heat of the dash burns my hand, and I'm shivering because the windows are all rolled down. The air outside is strangely crisp for a Spring night. It sends chills down my spine and numbs my ears. The twilight sky above looks like someone scratched out the sun with a piece of charcoal. I'm driving down the highway, my face too hot and my ears too cold as the wind buffets the left side of my body while the blasting heat scalds the right.
So, I'm driving down the highway at 75 mph, feeling like my car is in a goddamned wind tunnel because I don't want to burst my eardrums. Nine Inch Nails is blaring at umpteen billion decibels and I fear that, if I were to close the windows, the air pressure within my vehicle would increase to such a degree that my entire world would simply pop, explode, implode, or fucking whatever. While it's true I am fantasizing about death, I don't want to die quite yet. I am driving down the highway with the Downward Spiral playing at eardrum shattering levels, savoring my rage.
So, I'm driving down the highway at 75 mph, my hand and face burning from the heat, my arm and ears numbing from the cold, NIN vibrating my mirror loose from its moorings, and I'm viewing the world through a red haze. Rage curls within my chest and shoots sparks into my soul. I'm pounding my fist against the steering wheel waiting for the skin to split and bleed because tonight that cocksucker broke up with me at Generous George's Positive Pizza and Pasta Place.
So, I'm driving down the highway at 75 mph, weaving between cars, fantasizing that I will clip one and we will spin out of control into a marvelously fiery wreck and someone will end up having to identify my body by the single wisdom tooth I wear on a chain around my neck. I'm driving down the highway begging for an accident and the heat is on full blast.
So, I'm driving down the highway at 75 mph with the heat on full blast and my right hand is resting on the dashboard. I like the way it burns. I imagine the flesh curling from my bones, crinkling, peeling, and spiraling into the air in wisps of black smoke. I'm driving down the highway savoring the self-inflicted pain of my smoldering palm pressed against a hot vinyl dashboard and I'm shivering.
So, I'm driving down the highway at 75 mph, enjoying the way the heat of the dash burns my hand, and I'm shivering because the windows are all rolled down. The air outside is strangely crisp for a Spring night. It sends chills down my spine and numbs my ears. The twilight sky above looks like someone scratched out the sun with a piece of charcoal. I'm driving down the highway, my face too hot and my ears too cold as the wind buffets the left side of my body while the blasting heat scalds the right.
So, I'm driving down the highway at 75 mph, feeling like my car is in a goddamned wind tunnel because I don't want to burst my eardrums. Nine Inch Nails is blaring at umpteen billion decibels and I fear that, if I were to close the windows, the air pressure within my vehicle would increase to such a degree that my entire world would simply pop, explode, implode, or fucking whatever. While it's true I am fantasizing about death, I don't want to die quite yet. I am driving down the highway with the Downward Spiral playing at eardrum shattering levels, savoring my rage.
So, I'm driving down the highway at 75 mph, my hand and face burning from the heat, my arm and ears numbing from the cold, NIN vibrating my mirror loose from its moorings, and I'm viewing the world through a red haze. Rage curls within my chest and shoots sparks into my soul. I'm pounding my fist against the steering wheel waiting for the skin to split and bleed because tonight that cocksucker broke up with me at Generous George's Positive Pizza and Pasta Place.