'Chelle: How are you doing, Ebby?
Ebbirnoth: I throb with alternating rage and agony.
Ebbirnoth: The exposed nerves pulsate in the penumbra between my awareness and my subconscious.
Ebbirnoth: Visions of pain coruscate in my peripheral vision, while a storm gathers in my center of focus. A cumulonimbus aggregate of quiet fury and untapped strength.
'Chelle: It sounds like stimmies make you a little. . . talky.
Ebbirnoth: Some of our finest poets are blind drug-addicts.