The floor creeks and the bars screech and the amour screecks. The ghosts-a-booing. I see the pictures, I see the walls, I see the dark, I see the desks. I smell the dust and the skeleton's blood who used to be slaves. I smell the walls. I smell the dungeon. I smell old things. I smell rust. I smell the bones. I smell the mold. I feel spoked. I feel scard. I feel weird. I feel funny. I feel afraid. I fellalone. I feel dead. I feel pale. I taste the air. The walls tate awful. Rhe floor tastes awful. The stones taste awful. The bones taste awful. The bars taste awful. The cement taste awful. The mold taste awful. I feel walk. I feel mold. I feel mush. I feel bars. I feel bones. I feel cement. I feel paper. I feel stone.