Ill at Ease

My fingertips are sore and red

Nails ripped too close to the root

I swallow and still it's stuck there

A phantom piece of hard, rough bread

Grating between my sternum and heart flesh

Every swallow is a reminder

Something lurks in the shadows I cannot see

My limbs begin to tingle

Spiderwebs of electric current running running running

From the crooks of my arms to the center of my palms

It hovers in the space above my hands

Generating heat only I can feel

And we cannot forget the breathing, the breathing!

In this moment

It's the most complex task of all