cycling

Please Destroy Me

Please Destroy Me

There’s something about sliding up the hood of a car and slamming your shoulder into the windshield that really gets the blood moving.  I’ve never been one for drugs— no thank you!— but I imagine the rush you get from enjoying the scent of a few lines of cocaine is almost half as fulfilling as seeing a van cut in front of you and slamming your teeth into the passenger-side door.

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