Do I reach to the brown hoarse liquor to drown out these feelings? Emotions what a thing to be cursed with if you create your bed within it. Pain can be collective once you allow it to seep inside your nerves, surrounded by the powder of your bones. You look for a way out, but it’s trapped in a switch that doesn’t sleep. The trigger listens on in for your fears and it claws its line of attack through your slumber. The world stops yet the anxiety heightens until there’s multiple responses and reactions that force its hand for you to cry, to long in anger, to be somewhere remote but at the same time to linger in the center where excessive melancholy leads to the haul and aphrodisiac of sex.