Earth-shattering fits of whirlwind hysteria. Fluorescent bulbs tattooed to the insides of your eyelids. Wandering dim-lit haunts, digging for relics. You’re always digging for numbing antiquity. For another lie to hold and wrap yourself in sleep. One more night of throwing limp frames to concrete. Sinking into all of those things that drown in your mind. Chasing yesterday’s shadows down and down dark corridors. We’re the odds and out-of-sorts, severing ties.