Late Night Scribble(No sense, Many ands)

Woo and lay waste and whoosh, gone away but for scars and memories and not even that after awhile, just a cold dark place in bed next to a stranger, locked together in a Sisyphusian sentence, forever; or not, then it's back to the game with no name but two backs and droughts and 'pass'ed on golden showers and very strange people who ask about your thoughts on anal as a second question after "Hi, how are you?", as you speed date with serial killers and wankers and never even know but intuit away from or hell cling to and claw for like you did for the one who broke your heart, or maybe even for the one who broke you, or the one who didn't; or it just died anyway, and now we die again in bars and super(not very)markets and work and at stoplights frozen in between moments, when we're looking off into/through space and our true thoughts come unbidden up out of the depths until they honk behind you and you blink, shake it off, and drive on.