so it's not that you can't breathe
because you can
it's just that the surrounding air doesn't work anymore
doesn't send you reeling from the sensation of being alive
doesn't fill you, doesn't clear your head

so you can breathe, you just don't
because it doesn't seem to make much of a difference
your lungs filling with useless stuff that almost makes you even more light-headed

the sound around you is muted, near-silent through the pounding of blood through your ears, your veins, slowing, stopping, speeding, and then slowing again.

light crawling toward you
as though streaming through water to reach your immobile body
you can see it shifting, moving, waving in front of you, and it doesn't help that your pulse is gone, searing your eyes and throat with the awful vividity of it all

it doesn't take long for it to overwhelm you
light too bright against your eyes that can't focus
sounds too loud and thick against your skull
blood pounding and not pounding in a quick succession that makes you question the veracity of what you can hear
it doesn't take long to overwhelm you
you, the stranger in unfamiliar coffee shops days in a row
the stranger switching from hospital to hospital
hotel to hotel
you, the stranger, sitting rigid in the comfortable train seats, leaving one town, and approaching another so similar
that you have lost the ability to tell the difference

it doesn't take long to overwhelm you, but when it does, everything slows to a deafening stop
dragging out the infinity and making you wait
you've always hated waiting.