Open mic night. So much pain. So much confusion. So much consumption. So much communicated. I wish I could just turn off this analysis. This torturous decoding. Every breathe, every movement, every moment felt.
Sweating. Hot hot, pain. Lyrics go around around around. Breathe. Slow. Relax.
Concentrate.
Let go.
Release.
Sleep. And die.
Live again.
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