The crescendo hits mighty, piercing through chemical aides made for the brain.
It is meant to warn, not stun.

Through hushed whispers, the news is spread.
First the emotions.
Gradually the joys of before lose effect.
Then the sensitivity.
All past remorse exponentially increases. The negatives of yesteryear burn brightly in lenses of the mind, magnified with pride.
Finally, the itch.
An addiction that once was fed slithers its way to peripherals....
forcing old wounds to open while pouring fresh salt over broken skin.
Desensitization to well wishes and hopes.
It's the start of another scream.

my i t c h

an irking feeling behind the eyes.
recall puzzle pieces that aren't quite right.
from a distance, they appear to form an ideal picture, on further inspection Piece A jabs at Piece B and Piece C seems to be forced.
it's invisible from afar.
undiscerning. easily overlooked, but still present.
the feeling continues past tea, past deep breaths, past peaceful walks.
it navigates across the mind making its way to the forefront, resting in between blinks, in between pulses.
perhaps not today, perhaps tomorrow.
tomorrow it will manifest.