The afternoon sun sweeps across the square, winking in and out between the many pedestrian legs, blinding my bloodshot eyes. It highlights the rugged surface of the patterned brick walkway, gleaming where my fingers leave traces of blood behind as I crawl up this horizontal mountain. My skin is burnt, tongue thick in my mouth so I can only gasp for air. Because my mind no longer functions with words, no one listens to my rasping growls for help. They just walk, and keep walking, and keep ignoring…

How did this happen to me? There is pain, a golden pain ahead. I must reach it. There is no time left. Push forward again and again and again and choke and stop to breathe. But I can’t. The gold burns but grows cold, all the black motion drowns it out. Less and less light, more bodies pressing, pushing, ignoring…

I am not here. I became a repeating cycle, endlessly ground into the pavement, bleeding my identity into a pathway I will follow and create for eternity…

…and they will ignore, and won’t care.