Punk Blood - Excerpt

Hard driving all night cactus and sand smell of unleaded gasoline topped off under long rows of bright fluorescent light driving moths and earwigs mad in the desert night I drive on hungry for the stars white hot candies in a licorice sky you could reach out and scoop them up crumpled pack of smokes on the dashboard white bursts of static and country music guitar brown clashing and fighting the sounds of L.A., sea green surf tunes sets of headlights side by side planets rolling towards me red lights like hot pokers retreating into luminous black ink lead foot it deeper into the flat night road signs yell split pea soup in loud greens and cheap lodging twenty five miles up the road giant hot dogs thick shakes made from dates and figs in fat yellows won't you have some now I have no pushing me onward making my brain jump and flip like a pair of black jumper cables hooked to my fucking head the car grinding metal against metal my head grinding cell against cell bone against bone my throat and nose coated in brown tar I take a hit from a bottle of shit brand whiskey to try and take the fucking attendant my hands shaking trying to top off the toxic arc probing and crashing into the side of the car trying to connect with the opening for the fuel piloted by shaky hands gripping tight racked by tremors like hot sparks drops of gas spilling on the slick oiled pavement then as if he were a blind man finding the stepping off point from a curb the gun finds its way into the opening hands white knuckled pulling up on the nozzle's trigger filling the tank I sign one of the many stolen credit cards boosted from a B&E off Sunset Boulevard there's always ten or twelve seconds when you think the computer is going to rat you out and there's no way you'll do time for it so then things get ugly and you're not in the mood for the shit and thank God it didn't happen because the car you're in is hot.