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Nickols Oct 2013
Believe
There is
Good**
left-over
in our crazy
world.
© Victoria
Nickols Sep 2013
It will eat you alive
and will leave nothing behind...
Nickols Sep 2014
In death.
A grave marked (Y)ours,
Remains, an empty plot.
The story left unfinished.
A poem left to rot.
The fraying ends of a lover's knot,
cannot and will-not meet the end
at the melting ***.
It will remain an empty plot,
wrought with metal and without a  
weak-spot.
For true loves knot,
cannot and will-not
ever come to naught.
Nickols Oct 2012
A pile of miles, standing before my eyes.
Watching waiting as the denial excape down the endless miles. And onwards into a weary smile.
© Victoria
Nickols Feb 2016
With a press of a button, the sound ceases to a stop and silence ensues.
Nickols Jul 2016
I.
Am.
Not.
Enough.
Nickols Sep 2012
It all started with a kiss--
Well more along the lines,
Of a full out miss.

But all of that,
Is neither here, nor there.  

Because it all started with your lips.
Your lips--
A matching set of pure sin.

But yet again that falls under schematics.

What matters is, how it ended.
With a shove, and then a pull.
The wall, of my resolved;
Crumbled far across my kingdom.

You ask for how it ended?

When did I ever say--
The story was finished.
=^,^=

© Victoria
Nickols Feb 2013
Come listen closely, to the story in which I am speaking.
A legend told from just within a soul.
Quite now; close your eyes, be still your fleeting tongue.
Relax, which only could open the door to your minds perception.
A ride:
magical in proportion
but
bewitching in the fall.
Heavens gates which has been open, tripped by an angels halo;
over the clouds,
and
down to the rapidly approaching earth.

The fall from Grace has never looked more inciting.
© Victoria
Nickols Nov 2012
Red lips tinted from a sinful kiss, eyes bluer than the cerulean sky themselves hanging from the heavens. Roses; roses; roses the smell of them hanging on the air in-between two pillars of insanity. Love; what was thought to be the feeling. Buried beneath shallow water; lust lingers into reality, smeared on shades of scarlet and amber.

The infidelity of the fallen angel; daring to ask forgiveness from the Devil. How do you say you're sorry? A lie on the wings of a demon, or was there a simple explanation dripping from a vile acidic mouth full of falsity. The ripe apple wrapped in nefarious green poison, waiting for a bite from the unsuspecting victim.

No, not this time, all your trickery lays hollow and exposed like brittle bones picked over from the birds of prey. Lay in your bed of dirt and soot; lay in it because you have made it. Shovel by shovel you've dug your hole. Now it's time to crawl under your blanket of lies, and rest your shameful head.
© Victoria
Nickols Oct 2012
We don't need no wookie, Tony.
No, wookie, Tony.

You don't need no wookie, Tony.
No, wookie, Tony.
It's on a constant repeat...

I've been walking around all day singing this. Heh. >.<
Nickols Jul 2014
Your love is like a forbidden fruit at the top of a tree;
I could strive for the juicy apple,
reaching out; standing on the tips of my toes,
stretching my body as far as it could go,
only to have my straining fingers graze the bottom of the redden fruit,
for it to slip out of my starving hands.

A love like yours. Girl, it's too good to be true.
Nickols Dec 2012
Thoughts of cotton candy kiss laced with guilt.
Bubble gum wrapping the shame.
A deceit told through a mouth sewn closed.
But eyes held wide-shut.
A lie supported by another lie, bracing itself before falling.

Should I let the guilt be known through a cotton candy kiss?
Let the bubble gum wrapper shunt my shame.
Will I hold our secret behind stitched sewn lips?
All the while, holding my eyes wide shut?
Could I support this burden, bracing it with another lie?
Before I let it slip and fall?

A dangerous dance our feet have started,
where it goes I am not for certain...

A wicked path we've lain before us.
where it goes I am not for certain...

An affair of just wanting,
but nothing of taking.
Where this is leading I am not for certain.
For: where I hope we are going,
Well now,
that is another matter all together.

*Fin
Nickols Feb 2015
I shall become a devil for the last time.
For revenge is all consuming,
And my time has finally come to return.
In the end,
When the ground
is blistered and torn from blight,
I'll return to you,
In evil's form.
I dunno. It just stumbled out of me.
Nickols Oct 2012
My love is like a stone,
strong & sturdy,
and like the rock it is,
It will always find away to sink;
disappearing to bottom of the depths of the waters.

My heart is the water,
Free flowing & nurturing,
but love, (the stone)
strong & sturdy,
in its own way.
Will always
find away to descend--
The decent, into the abyssal.

The abyssal is my longing,
cold & wanting.
And this stone will always-
find away to the bottom of my cavern.

The cavern is where my stone is lodge.
Forever alone with the water washing the hurt away.
Down into the abyssal of longing.
Forever caught within the deepest of cavern.
Who would've know rocks can sink... >.< lol

© Victoria
Nickols Jun 2014
I don't want to wake this night.
Your face memorized behind my eyes.
A lie lingering into a sense of validity.

There is no you,
but within here.
Within the walls of my mind.
I can see you.
I can feel you.

You're alive.

I don't want to let this go.

Day light peaking through the cracks now,
and I'm pleading with the Lady of the Morning to delay her rise.

If only I could reverse time,
Just a second in the past.
A moment longer just to trace your face.

A sweet serenity laying in my bed.
Touching false reality in dreams of efflorescence.

I know I should wake,
but no...
Please not this time.

Just stay with me, a moment longer.
Tell me, everything will be alright..
I don't want to let you go.
Never let me go.
Nickols Oct 2012
A rapid flowing thought,
pampered easily into a worry.
Anxiety builds within moments - from shameful musing.
Bubbling champagne coursing through veins; hidden under ghostly white skin.
A simple life based off a well placed lie, unravels like a fraying quilt.

Could you forget as easily; as you could forgive?
Erasing a memory.
Cleaning the façade of our blood from the soaked table.
Tablets and tomb, both alike,
soaked in the redden water of my long forgotten innocence.

I am sorry for the lies I've told through our story.

I am sorry for my secrets kept,  locked firmly, behind close doors.

But I am not sorry for loving you truly, body and soul.

So cast me out,
Send me away.  
But know my leaving is nothing but me, showing my love for you.

All for the love of you.
© Victoria
Nickols Nov 2014
A white knight, shining in golden armor.
The apple in your eyes.
A step to close.
Asking for far too much.

I asked myself, did I lose a part of myself?
Only receiving an answer full of poisonous snakes.
It makes me ill, thinking of your face.
Won't you take me out of my cage?

Was I a knight, shining in golden armor,
or was I just a step too close?
Did I ask for too much?
My soul for redemption.
Tarnished from your touch.

I'll tell you any thing;
a mouse standing tall in front of a snake.
My armor shining golden.
I'll tell you anything;
about how rare it's actually seeing your face.
The vague reflections of what we had.
--and I know you'll **** me in the end.

But I want to know...
   I want to know...

Am I anything at all?
Nickols Oct 2012
Linking chain,
forged by pain,
link by link,
until it sinks.

Row by row,
down they go.
Into the depths-
of their watery graves.

Anchor, Anchor,
down below,
who pulls my chain,
down so,
very far.

Hold fast,
and forever be true.
Watch over my pain,
out amongst the deepest blues.
I had "row, row, row, your boat", stuck in my head while writing this... =*.^=

© Victoria
Nickols Jun 2014
Blue eyes** serpent. The devil dressed in sinister clothing. Carve my heart, and it was bleeding in his hand. Lust swirled over head, passion laced on a sinful seduction.
A voice of reason, lost in his twisted words of appeal. I wanted his painful kiss, with my tongue scraping a razor blade deal.
His abuse is all knowing but only in the way of  his desire.

Blue eyes demon; how I let you use me. Twisted and scorned by a hand of Hell; till there was nothing left but a wayward vessel. All of the memory's of our sweet serenity, gone and filled with angsty longevity .
How do I continue forth?
Walking this path of broken and cracked pavement.
I died a thousand times, watching you at the other end of the knife. If only you could see the blood on your hands.
I wanted to heal you. I wanted to feel you. I wanted to be closer to the time when you could finally see me.

Blue eyes, it's time for goodbye. You may still hold my beating heart, but alas I'm the one living and moving on.
Nickols Jul 2014
I am the embodiment of your sins.

I am your greed, gold in color and always asking for more.

I am your lust, swirling in amber with a slip of my tongue upon your flesh.

I am your wrath, rolling in a fit of redden anger.

I am your sloth, lounged in white, sleeping in between your sheets.

I am your gluttony, always craving more, more, more...

I am your pride, held purple in my state of royalty.

And

I am your envy, green with what never can fully be mine.

I am your sins. Full bodied. Anointed.
Nickols Sep 2014
You've done it, gone in the ways and mistook my apathy for empathy. When have I ever shown a range of emotion like the arch of a rainbow? Instead,  blending into the background in shades of dark, dusty hues. My lackadaisical whims are nothing compared to the logic behinde string theory, or was it a theory based on my lack of range in emotions. I could be wrong but then again, I am an apathetic person.

So what do I know?
Nickols Nov 2014
Ashes on the water.
  The phoenix rising from the debts.

Fire in the water.
  The phoenix turning into a sylph.

Air rising over the water.
  The freedom after the water stills,
     death becomes her once more.

Till all begins again.
sylph/silf
noun
1.an imaginary spirit of the air.

phoe·nix/ˈfēniks
noun
1. (in classical mythology) a unique bird that lived for five or six centuries in the Arabian desert, after this time burning itself on a funeral pyre and rising from the ashes with renewed youth to live through another cycle.
2. a person or thing regarded as uniquely remarkable in some respect.
Nickols Jul 2014
Affection; dark like the inside of love.
Lust; burning low as an ember would.
Beauty; the peeking hills on a summer morning.
Purity; of a frighten dove.  
Wrath; unlike any storm.
Bravery; derived from a cross.
Burdens; carried through life.
Kindness; earned in trust.
Sorrows; paid from flesh.
Intelligence; skills honed from labor lost.
Vindictive; only to those who are found deserving.
Strength; a soul who carries too much.
Impassive; on the surface.
Passionate; to the core.

Attributes, I see them, hidden in you.
Don't you want to see them too?
Nickols Nov 2014
It all came to halt...

The battle cries;
The swinging swords;
Cleaving halberds;
Even death's opening doors.

It all came to a complete stop.

Enemies from both sides, frozen in time.
All looking towards him.
The man shining brightest with hate and honor.
No, not the hero.
Instead the mighty warrior,
With an ode to a king to claim the sacred lands.

Arrows arching, painting the sky black.
Red rivers running, beneath the bodies of the fallen.
Burning; burning; burning smoke, filling the air.
The smell of death hanging near.

He changed that day.
The day he turned on his rage.

Legend insists to say.
He was the reason they won the war that day.
I've been playing way too many video games...
Nickols Aug 2014
The maiden of death wont be unwrought.
Sowing her gardens of the dying.
The wretches, she takes their souls,
placed into the bed of dirt, forevermore.
Nickols Apr 2017
This feels so wrong.
Living on a respirator,
healing from love's infection.

I use to have a pulse,
right before the insanity struck.

Thump, thump, my heart sung.
Finding comfort in my own breathing.

Then I saw you...
heard you.
felt you...
and I breathed you in.

My heart skipped in it's beat.
And my breath was gone.

Wrong- is it wrong?
It feels wrong.
Beyond all reason,
I have fallen in love with you.
And I know that
your taste is such a thing-
Such a thing I'd die for...

You're all I've ever wanted.
Now you're all gone.
Thieving my breath
and stealing off into the night.

Even though I love you,
you couldn't wait to leave me.
So, I'll whisper with my last breath,
about how much I miss you.

I can't help but close my eyes
and lay my body back down.
Letting the machines keep me alive.
Till the day you'll be back
to breathe life into me.
Thump, thump, my heart sung. Was the original poem title.
Nickols Oct 2014
His blue eyes are like glacial-lakes, wrapping around his heart till he's chilled to the bone from the cold.
A deadly place where treading is no longer permitted.
His eyes are transparent and distant as the impersonal clouds passing overhead.

Even as I stands before him, reflecting off him.
I am still merely a reflection.

He knows my face, I reason silently.
From the hills of my cheeks, down towards the valley separating my lips.

He should recognize it all.

Instead a blank expression greets me.    
A look of cold, solid insouciance.
I'm immediately angry with myself for wanting to justify his indifference's.

A reflex I've never been able to expel.
The vestigial limb on a skeleton.
A party favor from another time forgotten for the newly discovered toy.

I twist in the fridged winds wrapping around him.
My force giving under the great pressure magnified by his powers.

I never wanted to dance upon his breeze.
This realization makes me burn hotter.
My anger brighter than the northern star.

I welcome it, my amounting rage.
I embraces it with a raging smile.

His glaciers may be cold, immovable at times.
A pretentious notion I might freeze.

For I am the sun swirling in nova's ring and cannot be affected by his black iced personality.
Nickols Aug 2014
There once was a girl named Suzzie.
I guess you could say Suzzie
was missing some vital screws in her younger years.

All day and all night, Suzzie would amuse to enthuse,
until the point of misuse.
Before finding herself reusing.
Relapsing into that old familiar abuse.  

You could say, Suzzie wasn't content in her life.
Hell-bent on the decent into torment.
***... violence... drugs...
And to what extent...  
Consenting to the need?
Proceeding to only concede?

The black bead...
The devilish ****.
A seed to heed warning too.

All day and all night, Suzzie would churn.
Yearning for her upturn,
for the point of no return.

Instead Suzzie turned her life around.
A full 360.
She learned, to earn.
Spurred by her yearning and churning,
of a childhood induced coma.

Kindness; rightness...
The mere brightness all from Suzzie's mindset.
A guidance from the righteous highness.

She's won her inner crisis at last!

"Bye, bye Black Tar, Suzzie!"

"Hello, the newer better you!"
Nickols May 2014
Please understand,
before this goes any further
than a friendly "hello".

I'm a little crazy.
Not crazy-good.
But the kind riding
on the side of delusional.
My brain spins in circles,
days & nights.
An awful sickness,
from dusk to dawn.

I'll have you know,
I'm the kind of crazy,
that has to take pills.
Jagged little circles,
ingested down my throat.
Digested,
to calm me down.

Please, don't judge me.
The doctor says it's normal.
But sometimes
I sit and wonder.
"What is normal?"

Back on topic now,
I was told by my therapist  
not to let others judge.
But then,
I'm left imagining
everyone in white-
George Washington wigs.
Swinging a gavel
and
screaming, "Order in the court!"

I swear, I'm not too crazy...
Only a special kind of lazy...

H-hey wait... W-where are you going?
I am a little crazy.
But aren't we all?
© Victoria
Nickols Jan 2015
Nothing is happening...
I may have lost my ability
to form words.
Still nothing is happening.

My pen is empty.
My fingers tied in knots.
My tongue has wrung dry.

When will it all being anew...
I ask.
When nothing is happening,
with this heavy block crushing my hands
of any progress I might have brought into the light.

All because nothing is happening,
when you have The Writers Block.
Enough said...
Nickols Feb 2014
Her skin was warm and smooth, with her face burrowing into the arch of my shoulder. It felt nice… Almost like an actual home coming…

That thought made me open my eyes I hadn't noticed I’d closed. My cheek pressing into the crown of yellow-hair which smelled of sweet shampoo and something purely Lillian's. It was comforting… With my nose touching the crest of her head, I inhaled that unique scent. *Like a freshly creased book, blowing on an oceans breeze.
© Victoria
Nickols Jun 2014
I see you. Standing there, a distinct shape in the shadows. I see you, watching me. The mystique **** of your eyes dancing over my flesh.

I fear not the power of your gaze.
Until I find myself cowering in that parallel universe of backwards mazes.
Left as a child to discover a door to her rusting cage.

I see you as I'm (not) cowering.  The vision of a man with  blue eyes on fire.
Nickols Jun 2014
There once was a girl who lived at the bottom of a hole.
It was dark and damp and really, in fact, not all that nice.
She slept with worms and the crawling things nestling in her unkempt hair.
It was cold, and unnerving living within the ever moving earth.
But
the girl would never abandon the only comfort she's ever known.
The sanctuary of her home of bones and stones.
Nickols Feb 2017
I'll remember you as you were.
Innocent; out against the bluest of blue.
Where the sky hangs low,
on the veil of green lands.

I'll think of you.
From time to time.
With a soft thought,
and a gentle smile.

A fond memory,
To get me through
this storm.

However,
I'd cut off my own hand,
before I ever reach for you again.

For you are the thorns
on a red, red rose.
The gleaming needle waiting
to be threaded.
The nefarious laced poison
dipped in candy.

I wouldn't dare reach for you.
Because the pain may fade,
But the scars you left,
Will always be the same.
I rather remember you in fondness,

Than you as a black heartless.

Call it a botched memory.

I'll call it 'trying to get by'.
Nickols Sep 2013
The old forgotten unwound clock
                                                         is still at least right,
                                                          ­                                twice in one day.
Short and honest
Nickols Aug 2014
Look me in the eyes and tell me I am not already dead.
Look within my soul and tell me, all is finally at an end.
Look with your silver eyes, which reflect my very own.
A chaotic wind right before the deadly storm.
The redden horizon, fading into the coldest of blue.
A will of a way, left to burn within the goodwill of our mortal souls.

I see you Dear Brother...
A man shroud in the facade of a devils red clothing.
But men, we are not...
Are we, O brother of mine?
Two hidden lies, masked within a mould of our own demise.
A shell our mother has bestow upon her demon spawns.
Masqueraded truths smeared, until all came crumbling down.

I spoke of my hatred as I slipped from your grasp.
I fell into Hell with a malevolent wrath,
a curse befalling my tongue;

I hate you

Another lie, another sin.
Added to a pile of our transgression,
shadowing us in its path of our own destruction.

Look into my heart and see my love.
A love, which has not commenced into something dark and malcontent.

Look and see another me, (mirrored in your stare.)
Look and believe all is fine.
Look and tell me my blue coated wrath,
is nothing compared to the inferno of a burning Dante
while playing the part of your savior, Virgil.

Two souls, forever intertwined.
Both born under the sacred son,
but destined to fall under baited spikes.

When will there be rest, O Brother?
With my blade in your chest?
Or the indirect request of your blessed reprieve?

Look, before all is too far gone...
nigh is the time,
Look and you might just see...
Me.
but alas just yet,
maybe,
you shall see a piece of yourself as well.
A story of two brothers, twisted and torn. One Red, the other blue! They love each other but alas  they hate. Its a sad story. One not for the feint of heart! A love, unlike any other.

Two brothers, twined together in fate,
For ever more
Nickols Oct 2013
Just now I watched you float away. An invisible string tied to your heart and off you went. Like a balloon a child had let go of to learn the cause and affect of gravity. I watched you sail away on the breeze. A smile of gratitude lingering on my face. I learned to love you and when it was time to float on, I learned to let go and you flew on.
© Pandarra
Nickols Nov 2013
My faith in all my fellow humans is long gone and without an ounce of care. Does this make me a terrible person? Through your eyes, the eye of the beholder, you might see me as the fellow human who’s made you lose your confidence in humanity because of my lack of belief...

It’s a viscous cycle. With every soul, losing confidence from the next in line. When will it end? Where does one look for a burning candle in pitch of darkness?

Where do we go?
How do we get out?
Why does the world continue to turn, while so many are faithless?

If we'd been born pixies, fairy's in the woods.
We'd all be dead, and ash because there is no belief in our blue world.

So I'll speak my words once more. My faith in all my fellow humans is long gone and without an ounce of care. And yet the world keeps turning with the next man  falling down like a domino in a line.

Cause and effect.
The ever present chain of reaction
© Victoria
Nickols Oct 2013
You may have cheated on me, but mind you: it wont be as simple when you're trying to cheat on Death.
:}
Nickols Oct 2012
Waltzing into the blanket of dusk.
A **** escaping across the checkered board,
Out and inwards to the green grassed yard.
A sleeting figure, past-and-future,
Gone the way of the fearless noble rook.
Down-acrossed squares of black and white.  
Into the field of endless battle.

This game we play, has become a tournament.
White against black, two players locked;
Locked in a battle of constant wits.
Who shall win?
The noble too afraid to capture the evil queen or,
The darkness plauging the board.

**Check and mate.
© Victoria
Nickols Jun 2014
Is there cheesecake at the end of this?
Because if not, **** this ride. . .

Fin.
Nickols Sep 2012
A circle spinning;
Forever round.
Down a hole-
to underground.

Spinning faster-
blurring faces.
till they're all twisted--
twisted up backwards.

Facing downwards--
through the roof,
that is underground.

Up is down,
and down is up.
loosing grip,
on plastic society.

Acid burning,
till it tickles.
a rotting apple--
tasted sweet.

but wait,
where am I going again?

Oh yes,
Spinning circles,
there below.
through the roof,
hidden underground.
Someone, I think *she* lost *her* mind.

© Victoria
Nickols Jan 2015
"Sadness is a place?" The heart questioned the brain.

"Sometimes." Answered the brain knowingly. "Sometimes, it's' a place for dwindling."

"--So when is it not a place?" asked the heart in a perturbed manner.

"When it's no longer needed, it will cease to exist." Replied the brain.
Nickols Oct 2012
Reaching
                 as
                        I am
                                falling
                    up­-wards              
              into    
          the      
   Light.
                                          Blinding...
    ­                                                     Gleaming...
                                                     ­                      Shining...
                                                      ­       Swinging
                                               towards
                                                                ­ the  
                                                                ­          bottoms-
                                              ­                      facing
                                    ­                        the
                                     ­         dark-side.

A
    downwards
                    plunge.
                              crossing-
                        ­                   over
                                     into
                      forwards
                             ­         as
                                            the
     ­                                              world
                                                           spends
                                               onward.

when
Will
this
Ever
end

                       ­                               This
                             ­       downwards
                          dance...
             ­                             
on
And
on
It
goes...
                                   ­         A
                                                  never
        ­                                                    ending
      ­                                           spiral...
which
Path
have
You
chosen?
                   ­                                   The
                                                             blinding
                                                        ­                    twisting
                                                                ­                         dance of
                                                                ­         forgetting?
                                                     ­             Or
                                                 ­            the
                                                     hazy
                                             path
                                                      of    ­        
                                                        ­   remembering?

its
Your
choice.
                           ­                                             *Speak:
            ­                                                                o­r
                                                               ­             it's
                                               ­                      annihilation.
© Victoria
Nickols Oct 2013
I could die for you, hands and knees to lose my head. I would die for you.
© Victoria
Nickols May 2014
The ache is deep inside. There, just where your knife resides. Didn't I beg for your mercy? My throat screamed raw from wailing for my surrender. A barbaric answer, I did receive. Your concealed dagger buried within my left side. I stumbled and fell to the ground and watched you walk away, with a whoosh of your dark cloak. My vision blurred within deaths grasp. Left to bleed on the cold granite. Pale-white stone smeared amber. Oh, God. That awful color.

I couldn't help it my love, even with your fervent betrayal lain open and exposed. My waning eyes traced each strand of your ebony hair as the manic winds whipped them around your unhinged-grin.

"What a vision you are, my god." I whispered my ****** words staining my teeth.

You glanced back then, with the greenest of green eyes. A swirling ball of chaos with a deadly smile. The gold of your curving helmet reflecting; what could have been; what should have been between us. You looked back at me, right before you vanished in your clouds of illusions and smoke.

"I worshiped you..." I spoke to the dissipating air where you stood.

My god. My king. My lover. My killer.

"--and I trusted you." An empty echo of words ringing truth within my ears.
My time is fading in this realm. I am merely a red smudge on the ground. I question myself as I drown, lost in my sea of blood.
'How did I ever come to trust a deity of mischief and lies?'
© Victoria
Nickols Oct 2012
Its all a fantasy-
                         or was it all a mystery.
                                                        ­Have I lost all sense of reality,
                                                        ­     ­                                            all the while,
                                                          ­                                                                 ­ slipping down the banister?
                                                       ­      ­                        ;joke cruel all it Was
                                            .magister the to listening          
              -thing every While
knocked up-
                  backwards.
                               and then,
                                          **əpısdn-uʍop
© Victoria
Nickols Jan 2017
I'm broken beyond repair.

A thinning string, eventually, snapping under extreme force.

A shattered piece of glass under ****** feet.

A crestfallen melody, playing on a skipping record player.

I am nothing.

An empty room, barren of any light.

A dark hole, filled with dirt and worms.

Rust and paint flecking off a dejected car.

It hurts.

Like a back which hides the knife.

An accusation flung towards me,
without any precedence towards the cause.

My rights taken away from me.

My hopes dashed before my very eyes.

I am hurting.
For I am broken.
Because I am nothing.
Feeling rather useless right now *dejected sigh*
Nickols Apr 2017
Something inside his chest clenches.
His throat feels constricted, like he can’t swallow or breathe.
He squeezes his eyes shut to try and chase the feeling away.
He doesn't know what is happening,
he's panicking as he tries to draw oxygen into his lungs
He's suffocating.
His chest hurts and he cant believe how much it hurts.
It’s almost physical and he clutches his hands so tight
he feels his bone begin to ache.
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