He is the liquidity vampire who lives in every spike.
A chain-sprinter wired into the mempool,
burning through fees with the elegance of a man
lighting another cigarette on the dying flame of the last one.
He leaves scorch marks across networks
and wears the proof of every late-night mint
on his skin like warpaint.
Gas is his perfume.
Volatility is his bloodstream.
And he will always get in the block before you do.
