fear like the air in your lungs

it’s only one word, resting on the tip of your tongue like crushed sand. Uncomfortable. there’s a rush of beating heart, loud in the ear like the vivid loud thumps of a drum. And the word is just there. Begging, begging to be released. But. No.

He can’t release it.

not not this everything but this

And it sticks. He can feel it’s heavy presence. Tastes hollow but sometimes— when he is the comfort of his mind there–

no no not there (you idiot)—

it tastes parts sweet, tempting but then reality crushes; a voice low and familiar, a long-forgotten memory comes in sharp and he can’t breathe and it so painfully tastes like blue darkness. Eyes, wide-open, dark and piercing. Lips, soft, chipped and black staining. Skin against skin, fire carving fury with scratched nails. —Like them.

and his whole body is submerged in a cold freezing ocean. And he is sinking, sinking

he can’t think the air is suffocating his lungs is tight his heart in his throateverything squeezing squeezingstop stop please no no

He crumbles.

the word is trapping, he wants it to go.

It’s screaming. A sharp harsh red that screeches. And he wants it so badly to go.

And it’s— a moment of silence—

come on come one you can do it— one word and he would be free

And he opens his mouth- the word at the tip, come one– only a little push– he has to do it —

but–

only a gasp of air escapes.

No no he can’t, he can’t say dangerous too dangerous

(the memories would come come and eat him leaving nothing but crushed bones) (like before)

Stop. Breathe. Forget.

and he is running, running again