pitter-patter

Control becomes an obsession in a lonely mind. I watch my chest rise and fall, not by voluntary breath, but from something I can’t control. The strings of blue that trail for miles under blankets of skin pulse hectically through my appendages. And I observe, desperately trying to subdue, as the pitter-patter changes speed. 

Faster. Faster. Slower. Faster. 

It skips a beat.

And I lay terrified that my heart is going to stop or freeze and I’ll be the alone as I watch my life fade away. 

Reviews

[Mic]

Musings in the dark with those haunting thoughts. The mind pandering to thought? Or is it that control is subjective, with some things just beyond our grasp. Regardless, loneliness is a creative beast.

You've captured a moment. Very well done!