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Wednesday, April 04, 2007
The feeling
The flesh of his arms buckled and withered
It appears to live it's
own life
Underneath, the blood searing through the spidery blue veins
Swirling
health to fingers and toes
Swirling fear, hope, pain, gain.
Temples
throbbing
Paraesthesia pulses in his limbs
The feeling won't stop,
can't stop
Falls to the floor, hands over his screaming ears
Screaming
for help, for to be left alone