The echo is heavy, like a colossal avalanche.
The pitter-patter, faster than the wings on a dragon fly.
I can hear its brisk, pulsating throbs,
Feel my jittering hands shake from lack of sleep,
Lack of food,
Lack of drink.
Throat dry and hoarse, tired of swallowing,
Tired of being so completely aware.
Ears ringing,
Heart still immensely beating.
Strangely focused. Attentive, yet interactively confused.
I can only analyze with a since of forced concentration.
But my vocabulary is jumbled like crossword puzzles,
Simple un-understandable and completely misinterpretable.
My fingers, they wont stop tapping.
Right hand slightly clammy, cramping from clasping,
Grasping at my pen, knuckles ghostly white,
Such is the thing that allows this fright.
An abrupt rush of air flows down towards my chest as I allow myself to revert...
Back, to where my mind stays. But oddly enough it is not my state of mind.
My heart, now merely humming like humming birds,
Whispering like butterflies against my ear.
My scrambled, accelerated mind fluttering within it.
All other eyes focus forward, mind flicker wildly,
Looking for an imperfection to admire.
Jaw locked and clenched, as I resort back to my insistent tapping,
Hearts mentality, can no longer focus on our blatant reality.
Legs, trembling actively with anticipation.
Everything, besides this moments is not even close to any relation.
