Like sheets of sandpaper are drilled painfully into the sides of our throat. The words and emotion and anger are struggling to flow out of your mouth, the air hard to reach your lungs. Your heart aggressively slamming itself against your now fragile ribcage. Every single one of yours senses withering away, yet you still see It with such vivid color. You see all the hard work you’ve put into the reading splattered across the alley walls like blood from a war long ago. The heartbreak and cries of the damned emerging from the pages ringing in your ears. You can feel teeth on your skin, cold blood pooling around your feet, anger pressing against your chest. You want to feel satisfaction, but you want to forgot. You want to feel it all over again, but not in this way.