"Greg"

There was a car crash, a powerful car crash. Heaps of twisted muscle machine. The engine died screaming, wrapped its teeth around a tree. In the bowels of the wreck was a girl. The most beautiful girl I had ever seen. The crash had been abrupt, crude. But even this could not mar her. Broken glass made a glittering necklace around her neck. Her head was crudely thrown back, splaying beautiful chestnut brown hair around her shoulders and face. Her eyes were wide open and staring out. It's hard for me to explain what her eyes were saying. They had a look of wise innocence, of jaded virginity. I'll never forget her eyes. Her face was composed, beautiful, saint-like. Her legs were rudely spread and broken as if the car had raped her before I had gotten there. One hand rested on her thigh as if to protect herself from attack and the other was thrown back over the headrest with submissive abandon. The night air was full of her perfume.
-Henry Rollins