It’s there a line of concrete. A pool tables rail for my car and me.
Its a revolting feeling in my gut from the imagined sound of teeth gnashing against it.
A feeling followed by a taste of blood a texture of sand and pain, the smell of sweat from my forehead – What a horrid movie. What a horrid intro – What a gnawing and painful relationship I’ve built to a small lump of concrete stretch out in the infinite keeping us in line as we drive towards the sunset, drives towards a future; not so bright, not so dark, not so much as anything, but a forward motion towards nothing in particular. A line, rail, a feeling of freedom and obscure memories with no association to anything in particular.