Tiltmeter Prolonging The Wake-up Call
Prolonging the Wake-Up Call- I don't ask or understand
how I wound up in this chair. Licking the boundaries of a
gun and tasting the smoke of the last round. This isn't
passed- out, this is just scared to death. It's not a
countdown but seconds in which to live. Hair pulled back
to arch my spine that my tied hands hide behind. It's hot
under these lights, blistering in a sense. Rope burn and
frost bite cancel each other out.
