Prelude to Halfway to Hell

November 3, 2009

Ten minutes. Less.

The crescent moon swings its pendulum blade across the pale skin of cumulonimbus

and my foot slams the gas pedal down to the carpeted floor.

I feel the car hop into the air as I soar over the dip in the road. Tires smack into the asphalt,

wounding their ebony flesh on the merciless surface while the music throbs incandescent and the cops trail

wanly after me.

Long after me.

Fuck you.


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