Dark. Crackled, cranked up star space. Twirling galaxy of can'ts and musts. Neck stiff. Rigidly avoiding the world around. And round. The spinning makes your stomach jump. Squeezing bile. Acid into the brain. Dead, the soul and eye strain for good. See it among the milky wash of stars. It rattles with energy. Shaking. Your eyes open. Neck bent. Bending back. Eyes bleed. Glass. Clear.