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.