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.