Blood rushed to my lungs,
face,
heart,
feet, and hands.
An impending explosion with an everlasting timer.
No relief.
No release.
Only the pressure of a continuous stream of information floods my consciousness.
Filling me with an unknown dread.
Tick, tock
Tick, tock
Tick, tock
Never-ending knocks against my temples.
The pulsating tempo of prolonged trepidation
that curdles my blood,
stifles my breath,
freezes my bones,
and puts weight on my heart.
So that I cannot move,
and cannot articulate,
a burning question at the forefront of my mind,
at the tip of my tongue,
What is wrong with me?
About the Creator
Jae Acree
Artist and Writer who loves all things spooky.
I make poetry sometimes.
Slytherin.
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