The ultimate road trip tune looks a little like


Red hills blushing pink stabbed with skeleton trees, you could take the deep red dirt crush it between your fingers, brush it over bloodshed



You could take your hatred for the ink that bleeds into the world from the outside in and you could muddle it into a startling turquoise that is the same pigment as the heart of a new seed. You could stare long enough that your eyes tear up



Because she’s not there for you but if she was she’d be a wake up call to the halting gasp that is the shortness of your life. She’d rip you from your I.V cord and say

wake up you little shit it’s time to give your all to tomorrow

you are mine and together we are going to be something good.