From Room 1440, Waldorf Astoria NYC

She smirks on the uptown 4 train, Bronx bound. Reading all the while. 168th street princess. This is my open road.

Crazy eyed lost soul. I am you. Sometimes all that you need to do to feel alive is squeeze yourself between closing subway doors. Aggressively seeking your destination, even if it is just the next stop.

Stringing thoughts, hanging by a thread to these streets. A puppet waiting for repairs.

Call in sick with your teeth pressed to the intercom. Like tongues to razor blades. Let's set the night on fire one last time. Let's make memories and mistakes in these tattered sheets. Let's be the glistening in the eyes of catastrophe.