Why are these bright lights laughing at me as I lie here, dying slowly. Almost too slow. Too... slow. Or maybe not slow enough. These thin clothes on my body, suffocating me. This toxic air. My... my chest if pumping up and down at a very fast pace. I'm breathing in this horrid, stale air. Taking in myriad amounts of toxins. Yes I'm dying, I know this nowm As if I didn't realize it before. This thin line between life and death is becoming jagged. Sharp pokes stabbing at my sides, making me bleed. I'm slowly crossing that line. Slowly. So... slowly. Ever so slowly. This exotic taste drowning itself on my tongue is bitter. Or is it sweet? I'm drunk off of it. This taste. Death.