5th and C my ass, that blinky light's been a dashboard hula dancer for my cock since Vesper and her fishnet hymen began haunting these streets. You think cops give a damn? They're too busy beating off to Pariah fanfic to fix a goddamn signal. Fuck you, DOT. Fuck you, Dolls. That green pulse is the only heartbeat left in this dead bitch of a city, syncing up with my every time I wanna throw hands or fuck raw or whatever the fuck comes next. The LES? We killed it, sure, but that light's just laughing, ready to swallow us all into its manic glow. Pass the whiskey, we're all gonna need it when the whole place goes dark for good.
That broken traffic light at 5th and C, still blinkin green like a fuckin nihilist's heartbeat,
Pulsing same rhythm as my dick when I see Vesper strut past in her ripped fishnets and that leather skirt tighter than a Pariah the Doll apology tour. Fuck the DOT. Fuck coherence. That light's been strobing since '23, a beacon for the terminally online, a metronome for my unhinged libido. Cops don't fix shit. Dolls don't either. We just …