A beating heart and turning stomach harmonize to play the song you'll violently dance to. A bead of sweat crashes to the ground like a hard stick of hickory, striking a high hat. The song echoes, testing the sound barrier, but who's responsible for this piece? Are you to do the dance of indifference; packed away in your corner? Or kick down the door and break the ground with a passion full of hate. Whether you go through the door, or felicitously open it, you've gone somewhere. So sit in your corner and let your eyes dance through these words, or go past the door, and write about how you've danced. There are pros and there are cons, you're reading this prose and possessing neither one.