One big rock and all that's left is agony, the instigator, and a crushing silence: doom. So too you grew, and dissipate. The shadow, our friend, comforts us in this womb; our metal grave. In the concentrated calm, beneath the sun-stained highway, shouts rise through the cracks. Life is impossible. The seatbelt straps are acrimonious restraints. Window shivs apply their embrace: I've perspired blood since we landed. So don't cry to me, you venomous, incessant defeatist. I shall forever be the better off without the wailing.