everyone that I ever knew was crammed into a little building with a concrete floor. dimly lit, it smelled of stale smoke and friends were choking back the tears that they had come there for. and I was in a little jar upon the stage, where all my records and guitars were neatly placed. left of the tables of food sat two girls I could not recall speaking to and one told the other “don’t cry, we still have three of the others it will be alright” and I was hovering overhead, taking it in. and all the things i should have said, they were trapped forever, in my skin.