I don’t even pretend with the alarm going off I just gun it the fuck out of there. I’m weaving in and out of traffic in a tux with security in pursuit. The streets are wet with panic. I could eat shit any second. I don’t even really know how to handle a motorcycle I’m just doing it. All that matters right now is that I never stop. Not with this mannequin’s arms bent around my waist. There is like an entire generation in her face. Staring off forever at what has happened, at what’s to come. This is my responsibility. All the failures and dreams of an entire generation and I can’t find the interstate.