Driving to Obscurity

from Mr B Bruizer by tynus

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poorly hung toilet door adorned with born to run, the stale smell of piss misplaced upon the floor; dry heave culminating in nothing much, but the weary welcome of dawn. two slack bags served up beneath the eyes, and a temper distended by thought; the somewhat nauseating scent of little chef's extractor fans greets you in parking lot.

back in the car engine's running and the radio's alive, the topic this morning is death - there's a lady on the line saying that if her husband had survived, she'd try her very best to let him know just how much he meant to her, and attempt to recompense all of their qualms. the d.j. demonstrates all his most sombre refrains, he says 'that's food for thought'

the creeping little limbs of light that are peeping up behind the hills as you pull out into the road, put your foot down and head towards home; tell yourself it's o.k., it's alright.

bleary eyed doing 40-45 mph, the sirens are calling ahead; blue lights flashing round and round as the the traffic keeps left, slowing to try and catch a glimpse.. the unimpeachable entertainment of a first class wreck, it's known all too well, and lapped up by the cross section with furtive respect - they can't wait to see you burn.

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from Mr B Bruizer, released July 6, 2015

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