I Am Not Alone

I get this sensation sometimes -

this dark sensation -

that starts as a tiny tingle

and matures into a sturdy pull

on the tender fibers

of that pounding muscle that lets me breathe.

It tugs,

stringing a part of me into

a black hole

where I don't even understand the stranger

laws of physics

for me to rectify them.

And dammit then it stabs

like I did something real bad

I mean something like threatened its family

or set its house on fire

only I'm sure

it's the sole of its kin

and it lives and thrives in me

(and many others, I've heard).

Either way, it keeps stabbing

and then I feel it scrape

like it's carving a pumpkin,

cutting out the flesh and soul

from my expression

leaving me with a hollow smile

for display.

Sometimes, many times, it even finds its way

to my tear ducts

and pricks them with little spears

until they do what they naturally do

under stress.

This sensation even bullies me into leaving the house -

it grips

my wrists

so tightly

and after a beastly struggle

I free myself

and my legs carry me to an open field where

I sit down, catching my breath

feeling safe

for a moment.

I almost feel all better until I realize

that it wanted me to run here

it wanted me to smell the blossoms around me

and notice that they were all

forget-me flowers

and he-loves-me-not petals.

A second later, I hear it

a susurrus in the closest shrub

a snicker

and I see it

a smirk

then a set of teeth

sinking

into my fading smile.