You are lying on a bare floor. Black floor, black walls, gray ceiling. It is dark and you can only see the slight outlines of shadows. The air is acrid and sticks in your nostrils as you inhale.
your face is looking up into the darkness and you knees are bent. Your legs pour into the floor. THe darkness pulls at your legs, fastens itself to your sinewy, helpless ankles. There is a tight cord tied tightly around your muscled yet bulging waist. It cuts and burns as you struggle and flail. Skin gives way to flesh gives way to bone. Your insides eventually find their way onto the floor to lay in a glittering rubied pile.
I paint my eyes black to cover the red tear-stain-rosettes. Dig deeper with my toes into the floor to brace myself for the next wave.