there is always damage control, only ways of exerting one disaster from happening over another. there are times i look at all this, all these people doing something, talking, dancing, casually passing one another, and i feel such disconnect, such amusement, i wonder, ‘where the fuck are you people coming from?’
where the fuck did you come from?
just that moment too soon, too late, when it’s unavoidable, burst of metal, exploding glass, tossed ten, twenty feet this way, completely out of your way, i was taken completely out of my way. as if you were the impending disaster to avoid, this car wreck made of glimmering shattered bits and sheared metal. of split lips and beaten bruised spines. of oil and gasoline and a smattering of blood. the elegant mosaic before pain sets in.
as if you were the victim and the driver, the passenger and the car.