I don’t behave that way ,for a few reasons..
Number one, I don’t think you save that much time, being high wound and pushing the limits of both your machine and your ability to control.
Number two..
I sincerely distrust people.
I distrust their capacity for safety, or for empathy, I think each person is the main character of their own little story, and they ain’t fuckin paying attention to anyone else..
(Including you…)
A car crash would be a grim way to go.
Not fast enough.
After the impact you might be aware and conscious, lying in that heap of metal.. as your internal bleeding gets to work.
Head trauma.
The chemical soup in which your brain sits… all of the pots and the containers being destroyed at once, all the chemicals mixing with blood and pouring into your cranial cavity.
Internal bleeding.
Each little organ inside of you is a building, and there’s little guys in those buildings doing specific tasks…
Then something tears the walls out.
And the little guys go outside and start looking around
“What the fuck is going on here?”
I dunno,, seems like a physical trauma… I think we might be dying..
Internal.
When you’re fucked.
Picture 8 water balloons inside of you, and each has a different dye in it..
Then they spew out, they empty, they tear, they rip…
And your brain is subconsciously watching all of this..
“RELEASE THE PINEAL!!”
All hands, abandon ship, throw the red button..
Pour in the magic, pour it into what remains of this temple..
Give us a show.
Give us a show before we go.
Death be not proud, but it be interesting as fuck…
The mechanics and the nature and the “WHY?”..
Why does that gland exist?
You can’t use it after death, and its purpose seems to be tied to death..
(And doing hallucinogens..)
Death is coming for you,
For me,
For everything that you love.
Looks like a car crash, a cancer, a battle..
Death is on its way.
Dancing in rhythm with the MASTER clock,,
You see her shake her hips in time
(Tick,tick,tick,tock…tick,tick,tick,tock )
Plot armor and spiritual armor might be the same thing..
(I am HERE, because I’m not done)
Death tries, but you’ve got a number tattooed on you.. and even Death knows..
(It can’t have you a moment before..)
Not a fuckin moment.
What will be, will be.
It is what it is..
(And there is something MUCH larger at play here…)
Fun fantasy.
Fun daydream.
TO think it matters.
To think anyone had a plan, and that this life is not mere chaos..
Fun fun fun…
I hope I don’t die by car wreck.
Seems unnecessarily brutal .
Violent.
Seems like a lot.
dawn 