It's starting to break down now, I don't understand what all these moments mean. I drew this a while back, tried to build a bridge between reality and the darkest of dreams. It's just a truck, black smoke, simple reasonable and truthful velocity that can carve a cut, a bridge across the void of human avarice, the soul stealing hunger of commerce. I just have to get rid of a couple of hundred, go home. You know?
People though, they always want more. The stronger you are the more they want to draw upon it, to defend against their own weakness. My bright became the abject hunger of their own reflect.
Lancelot's a loser. It's true.
Fuck I almost forgot. Here. Have it again, you're right. When I posted it the first time it belonged to you. I get so wasted, play coy, delete shit that should stay. Hope you can forgive me.