Some one is pulling my spine out.
Their hands are wrapped around my Thoracic.
The pain spreads to my nerves around my ribs and up my shoulders.

A ghost blows a cool, long, slow gust of air on the back of my neck.
Taking a second to pass though my body, laughing at me.

Fire and ice covers my skin.
It burns. It burns. It burns.
The fire burns and the ice bits.
It bites. It bites. It bites.

A cool crisp cider to pour down my throat to quench and drench the pain.
New friends, good company not knowing my flaws and holding my hostage.

Knowing, I'm stuck in isolation.
Cider and friends are a slim possibility.
I can't fix it. Subdue it. Ignore it.