The explosions come but we do not run. We see them before we hear them.
The high-pitched sounds permeate the air and all we do is sit.
We wait.
They explode from the inside out.
The explosions leave a spidery trail of sound and sight that no longer exits anywhere but in our minds and all we do is listen.
The colors fight against each other.
They spread in all different directions pushing out whatever empty space was occupied there.
The noises change and now we hear the demonic mutation of the sound of rain.
We are hurt by the light but still we stare.
The booming and the blinding lights transfix our gazes so all we do is sit.