#stealing some car crash sexual metaphors there

It was inevitable, really. Two inexorable forces tend to be like that, the stubborn bastards. Collision courses without the option for aversion, because both of you are so wonderfully oblivious to the catastrophic event up ahead. Don’t bother tooting your horn, because I’m far too busy listening to Cake at full volume to ever hear you, concerned onlooker. I’m afraid this vehicle is going to be a write off. 

Chassis on chassis, my claws digging into your bodywork, until we’re just a mess of fused metal and burning rubber. It doesn’t matter who hit who (I hit you), because we’re just as stuck on one another as each other. You’re not getting away, and I can’t get free, either. A ball of wreckage hurtling down the tarmac, both courses changed irrevocably. 

I couldn’t be happier to be wreckage with you.