II.- ROAD TO NOWHERE
Where are you going now? Your mind's so numb and clustered, the road's empty despite the tenths of souls around you, and whether you realize in you conscious remains the picture of the one allegedly only, supposed to have been the ultimate though with words was ultimated by your lips, the same ones used to be blazing and burner, those that burned to ashes blue feelings and hopes. Who the fuck are you? You don't even know it indeed, or what other reason for an escape? What other explanation can you turn in to the aethers? No, can't; ain't that the reason you rode your bike outta that old moisty county in the middle of nothing?
By paying the place to the old woman with 3 cats and a dyslexia seemed like you already did what was expected, the 15 bocks might've paid a noon, a sentence rather than a pleassurable catharsis - the smell of the artifitial carrot-coloured hair of that elder remains with you, as well as the sheets not cleaned in 15-days with dropplets of who knows what and the dust buring the tears of the foolish who accompained you to seal her own fate into oblivion. Fool.
You can't even get rid of dust and waste gotten from the entrance, it remains in you black leathered boot right boot, a sratch in your no-sleeve black shirt as evidence of what happened before, the nails left a mark for you to remember the sins now you pay. Hide, go ahead and hide beneath sunglasses and a helmet, within loud whispers of people running about. Some words come out as you drive as if distance could ever break the seal for leaving has always been a joker in your games of power, what do you say? Say it louder, c'on you dumbass, afraid of rejection? The same rejection used by you solely as an hour and a half entertainment, so funny how the lucky numbers played against you and funny how the table turns. Keep going, you're going nowhere since you're nothing and left nothing but pain and destrction in that room 409.
