Everything is going ashtray but everyone has an ego as high as the skyscrapers to care to take the bullet. I should have understand that whatever spit out from their mouths are just some cliché balonies. Besides, what can you get from hanging on words and words only for your dear life?
I should have feel unease of the red stains on my clothes, my body, and the floor. But all I could sense is nothing but ecstasy. My eyes started to see the things that I should not; as if it could not distinguish between what is real and what is not anymore. Maybe it could not. Maybe I could not too.
So, what else can I do to put things back to enthralling arrays? What else can I do to cease my mind to think about fleeing? What else can I do when I quickly discern this cramped place as a good place to succumb?
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