uneven, my rapid breaths, clenching me in fear's talons
my thoughts bleeding out into salty streams of yielding...
pooling in my ears - a deafening silence... like the reaper's
bony fingers, gripping me in a stranglehold of panic
am i screaming? or dreaming? or in some kind of denial coma?
memory is a mirage, strangely distant and alluring...
with colors eerily blending, like impressionism
sound is tense... a staccato rhythm, pounding out the beat
of intelligent design... my own anatomical percussion...
bemusing me... then, amusing me... am i smiling?
panic yields his grip to curiosity (my old familiar friend)
i welcome him in and take a deep breath... one more grasping minute
has it been an hour? what time is it?
painless but numb... my vision finding new clarity... i consider
the stark ceiling above me... with lines of architecture, strangely...
pleasing and impressive... why am i on the floor?
i need to get up... my fingers flex in wary preparation, m