I’ll find a job down at the truck stop sucking cocks before I sign myself over to even one line written in marketability. Is that a tagline? How about Cocaine. You know it. It’s all up on the back of your skull having a long, deep drink. Seizing up? Yeah, you’re all crooked and gnarled. Slurp, slurp… mountain squid. Sky parasite. Keeper of the conduit. Pulsating… intensifying. Disaster is looming. Pound one out. Kill a hooker. Pay on the nose. Each way? Afraid not. You’re sprinting into conventional failure. Resistance training at its most gruelling. I thought ice was king. Sure… king of shadows… but that’s ordained. I’d be concerned with the motives of an empty empire. I’d be concerned. Now come lay your hot mess at my feet.