5Hell yeah. This is what we were born to do. Driving down the freeway at 1500 miles per hour and downing our Jack Daniels like there's no tomorrow. Going fast and not giving a damn. Our heads spinning and vomit adorns the car window. There's not another car in sight, not on the straight-line roads that stretch for miles on end. Because nothing matters, not anymore.
This is what we were born to do. We're not supposed to be locked in glass boxes and studied as an experiment. We're not supposed to be tied down and cut open and be used at the stock inventory. We're not supposed to be isolated and frozen. We were born in petri dishes, but that doesn't make us any less human.
We were supposed to get out. Be free. We were supposed to see the world.
Driving along our dream to live, and the landscape's a blur. Hair's sticking to our foreheads and cheeks from the sweat and vomit. Our eyes are dry from the wind that carries through the rolled-down windows. What does it take to be free? Because we don't have to lie anymore. The shackles that bind our ankles, they're gone. We sawed off the grey necklace that choked us long ago, and our hands grip the steering wheel just to make sure this is real. It's not just a foggy dream anymore.
We used to have nightmares of getting caught trying to escape. We saw what they did to the others. They had the open throats soaked with blood and sewn back together to collect more cells. They had the missing patches of skin that never grew back. And their bones, they couldn't use them for transfusions anymore. Their bloodstreams were dirty with disease and infection... Their hollow eyes showed that they would never again hope to escape.
But we did it. We were born to be free. Our heads are swimming with alcohol and the car swerves a few times, but it's all right. We'll drive into the sunset and past the horizon, until the road disappears and all we're heading towards is empty space. We're laughing our heads off as the accelerator's pushed to its limit. We don't give a damn about the battery or the gas. All we want is ours now.
Nothing can stop us now.
Empty bottles and crumpled wrappers accessorize the car sets. The floor's crumby and the inside stinks, but all we're doing is grinning and high-fiving each other with every telephone pole we pass. The steering wheel's out of control and we've never tested the brakes. Does it matter? We don't care where we're headed, because we escaped! The faded "Bridge Out Ahead" sign that's headed our way never registers with our minds. The rickety clack, clack sound between the wooden planks gives our voices a vibration that makes us giggle hysterically. And we never hear the snap! sound and the silence that erupts to the sound of the car falling, crashing into the cliff and rocks underneath that broken, wooden bridge...
A/N: I have no idea where the fuck this came from. O.O; I think it's about human clones, and set sometime in the future when scientists can clone people… Otherwise, I'm confused as well. But, yeah. Everything I write has to do with death one way or another. uu