The road is leading to nowhere. It’s cold and the window’s open but hot air is still whipping my face, as I maxed out the heater. Nightdriving is always better when pointless, the rabbit in your headlights being solely a reflection of self. An aching heart numbed by the sifting landscape insulting the notion of knowing – getting lost in your motorized living room. Swigs of cheap liquor make me forget the numbing stings of waking up alone and needy. I am alone with the world, not on a racetrack, but on a railroad. A clink and I know the cigarette lighter’s bright coil is crispy. I stare at it, not knowing if I should brand my skin with a scar or burn up the cancer stick stuck between my lips. The thought of the smell of burning flesh makes me shiver, so I enjoy a drag of the tobacco, even though I know it’s a bank loan on my longevity. Fuck it, I spend more time trying to avoid life than actually going through its gears – I guess I’m literally living the dream then. Another car drives by, and I imagine myself colliding with it, seeing my face crashing on the wheel, brains spewed all over the windshield, the seatbelt bruising my skin, breaking my rib cage as my insides are turned to mince. Nah. I couldn’t stand being responsible for the death of the soul in the other car, seeing the barely recognizable face of a crying woman whose mascara dripped down her tear-ridden cheeks as she exhaled her last breath. No. Just focus on the road and don’t let the crazed driver kill you. Just let the road forget about her. And please. Don’t start sobbing.