Amerikkka
I'm stuck in a car in the unbearable desert heat, the sun is a constant hellish lantern magnified ten fold through the windshield. The car won't start and I'm handcuffed to the steering wheel, I don't know why I'm handcuffed, I've always just been here, and so have you.
You're dead in the backseat, out of reach, bloated and ripe with corruption. You were alive at one point, at least I think you were. I vaguely remember when you still breathed even though those breaths were ragged and labored.
What once was is of no concern to me now. What matters is I'm handcuffed to the fucking steering wheel of a car that won't start, slowly cooking in an easy bake oven made of metal, plastic, and seat foam. I'm stuck in this makeshift coffin apparently built for two, and yes that brings me back to you.
I never liked you, I tried to make my peace with you, I truly did. I tried to beg you to look for the fucking cuff keys. I begged you to free me from this horror and you never listened to me, not when I was a child and certainly not now. I tried to pretend you would eventually free me, I tried to pretend you cared, or noticed, or gave even the most incremental nugget of shit about me, my welfare, my wishes, or god forbid, my hopes for the future of what promise you might have still held.
Your death came as a relief to me, briefly, until I remembered the cuffs. Now the stench of you fills my nostrils with every brief, awful intake of air. I would breathe through my mouth instead but I swear to hell I can actually taste you rotting when I try.
There is no escape, I know that now. I could chew at my wrist but my teeth wouldn't be able to break my own bones, I could bite through my wrist and bleed out, but I lack the courage for that I fear. Eventually you will stop stinking, your stomach with burst and the ants and the flies will find their way in and do what nature always does. Eventually we will both be nothing but a collection of bones held together by their threadbare clothing, bleaching together under that unrelenting sun. You deserve that end, but I don't.