It's like the unbearable itch of knowing somebody's eyeballs
are piercing the back of your sweaty neck,
and it's intimidating as hell.

It's like the rhythmic pounding of a migraine,
such a pretty and steady beat, but holds
such a negative association with
nauseating pain.
What a shame.

Waiting.

It's not something you can feel,
like the hurting force of hitting the ground hard.

But waiting
for you, someone, something,
anything at all,
it's the most excruciating feeling I have ever felt.