he gripped a few swigs and hit the gas, launching us from 0 to 40 with poor coordination and an intent gaze that was replaced by my intuition or maybe some viscidly vivid vision. but was it enough to save us, or did we really die that night?
_______
a few days later i became aberrational, shifted from a knight into a zombie and narrowed my sights, shot myself 8 times in the liver. we skidded while i shifted from 0 to 80 in the center lane of a highway; a daze gave way to my brazen mindscape and all i could see was a fairly meek landscape...
_______
if he ain't dyin' for me, then i ain't ridin' with him; there's no time for that...
... i just want my time and my mind intact; when they both gone, you can't buy 'em back
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