I splashed cool water on my face
Feeling the soles of my bare feet stick to the warm tile of my bathroom floor
I flick the lights on to watch as my eyes adjust to the light
To watch my dilated pupils constrict

'You've always been her hero. You never know whose hero you might be in life"
His words played over and over like sound recorded on the lock groove of a record, repeating eerily
The stylus continuously scratching the jagged grooves to warble out signals in which you convert to sound
Hopelessly, until lifted from the disk

Each spin around the turntable,
Carbon black vinyl hissing as I examine the characteristics of this sound
Dust and scratches causing complications with every click and pop.

I turn the lights off, allowing my eyes to return to the state in which they were
Before my thoughts were interrupted by the florescent lights and repetitive sound
Dilated as if aroused or addicted to methamphetamines
If eyes are the windows to the soul, mine is wide open
My pupils must be proof
As black as the record spinning around