Into This Existential Rabbit Hole

Driving down a packed highway and the sun won't give me a fucking break.
I think a lot about this woman I've been seeing, and the freckles on her neck.
A cigarette appears in my mouth and I pull on it for awhile.
Nothing great on the current station, so I change it.
This deejay comes on and starts talking way too fast.
Unable to take him waxing poetic on Radiohead's new single, I change the channel.
I imagined him in a gloomy studio with his dick in his hand.

The car roars, the right tire shredded on the hot asphalt.

I pull over to the shoulder, and run my fingers through my hair.
Nails digging my open palm until it is raw
Look into bloodshot eyes that stare back at mine.
Can't imagine talking myself down from this.
Everything is happening at once and it never seems to stop.

I remember what we talked about.
"This is the day that I have a flat tire."
Climb out of the car, and light another smoke.
Hitch a ride with a stranger and feel better every second.