They are sex-crazed canines. They don't stop playing the same game. I want to go, because at least I don't scream. At least I don't make others feel useless, yet they act like I am. At least I try to start a conversation.
And I could have a better time by myself. Listening to myself get high off the thoughts of ecstasy than promising others I can get them high. I could have a better time asleep and dreaming of the demise than actually doing it, or hiding it.
It echoes. They move their bodies sensually. There's one whose eyes - the pupils - become crazy and nonexistent. And while not moaning like the rest, he's still the biggest fox of all.