forgotten by the roadside, left for dead in the ditch five miles back. i stand in line for more and more of the less and less there is to have. scraping by with more than enough. wasting without thought, but thinking about saving. contradictions become normality and reality enters through the fog of daily life like a brick through a window. smash it all down. burn it. scrawl your name in blood over the hood of the car, as you leave your seat through the looking glass.