THE AGONY OF BEING PERCEIVED THE FLESH DOES NOT KNOW BUT IT FEELS IT, IT'S MADE TO, IT MUST, IT ANCHORS AND YET IT CLAWS, A REVERBERANT CRAWLING, IT LINGERS, IT STAYS, IT HOLDS FIRM AND IT MOVES ON A JOURNEY THROUGH THE SKIN, UNDER SCARS, INSIDE, IN PAIN, IN REMEMBRANCE, IN FEAR. IN HOPE.
Will look into it—most likely after my semester ends