The last song to ever make me wet myself in fright. Skinny Puppy's "The Killing Game" grabbed my heart, stretching its harmonized, vibrating tentacles through my arteries, splitting to my brain and testicles. The ascending appendages squeezed my eyes, forcing out tears as it stunned the frontal portions of my brain - this song knows where fear is created - and I cried while the descending half slapped my bladder until there was nothing left but bile the leftover from the edible chum that sticks to the sides of the intestine.
After, I could never walk past a keyboard without urinating until I bled, and puking until my retinas burned with such ferocity I was driven to splash my face with the coolest liquid nearby, often times toilet water, shouting, "I am not immune! Can't you see?! I am not immune!!" in between the rounds of heaving food chunks.
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