The screech of tires set me free from silence and spark a chain of thoughts. Sunset in the parking lot, I want to see the moon come up. Another sip of the bottle, another puff of smoke, I check my teeth in the mirror, yellow, goddamnit. I'm starving. A knock at the window, a women with bags, she has a cardboard sign. I bet she's starving too. Where am I? Some shopping center in Brea? I see a 30 minute photo. I see a nail salon. I see a karate studio. Are they called studios? Parents still make their kids practice karate? I think my questions stop there. Building up inside of me is some kind of energy, pulsating through my body, jiggling my bones, moving my flesh. If only my brain knew how much my body wanted to leave. Decades will pass and I won't move. But that's impossible, this seat lacks comfortability. It's given me a pain in my neck. I should get some sleep, it'll be a long night. A night I'm certain will carry rejection, embarrassment and tomfoolery, in reverse order. If only I could dream of something better, but the emptiness inside prevents me from dreaming anything at all.