He stares straight through the frostbitten world, Eyes glowing like brake lights at the edge of oblivion. A low rumble rises—engine or heartbeat, It’s hard to tell under all that cracked leather. The windshield smears reality into a bad memory, Cold steel and colder thoughts, As the red-tinted future glares back, Promising nothing but endless road and ruin. This is no driver. This is the warning before the wreck.