Creative response to The Bucket Rider

Last breath. The union of tremors are marching in the streets of my soul, quaking my sweating landscape and reverberating my sense experience with more outward force than phenomena knows how to deal with. I need to tell you I love you. Fuck, I need more breaths and the band wasn't that good anyway. I have to tell you something of importance, shit, I need to convey what's happening to me so you can prepare for it when it comes your way. I'm hot and cold, kind of like Socrates before the hemlock; both pleasure and pain. It's not that bright. I think I feel lights shining and people, I can only feel, I mean I can sense everything but not like usual. I can smell the street, it smells like orange rinds, dirt, and paper bags, it's real strong. Shit, I just took the breath, but I'm not wearing the halo yet, maybe there's one more left.

I'm not sure how to explain this but I'm still not dead but I'm not very far away either. I think it's in between last breath and complete end. I need this time to tell you how much I love you. I need to speak. Why is electricity what I feel? Why do we need electricity to bring our hearts back. I should have studied more physiology. I don't care if I live, please let me tell her I love her.

I'm standing right beside you. I yelling "I love you" in your ear but all you are doing is staring at the fireman. Love, what about it? The last thing I wanted to feel was your breath and all I got was the concrete. Maybe you shouldn't love, suppose that the less love you have while you're taking you're last breath, the easier it is.

I smell your perfume, it's wrapped around me, with in me, I'm riding it away from you. I want to panic but I'm not sure how. No more sweat. Could you hear me? It's not bad, it's something in between all that. There are no more sides to choose, not even you. I can't say it anymore. Thoughts are disappearing and so are...