The Process

Pain creeps up my neck, across the bridge of my shoulders. Along the edges of my vision a sparkling and swirling gray mist appears. The muscles crowd along the base of my skull, jittering and twitching like tweakers cooped up in a jail cell. Everything is far too bright, too loud, too smelly.

Never to suffer would never to have been blessed

Originally posted at
My Dreamwdith account. I also post on my site, The Process

 Comments welcome. :)

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