You Must Fight This

I can feel them.

I can feel them coming in on me. Those negative vibes.

I can feel their icey fingers gripping my ribs. Forcing out quick, draining exhalations.

Attempting to cloud my senses, melting into my atmosphere.

Settling into my subconscious like a thick fog.

You must fight this, a disant thought calls out in desperation. It is being choked out by the drumming in my heart. This demon settling in on my stomach. You must fight this she says again.

Angry storm trooper thoughts pound my temples.

Searching for open doors of which to enter into my mind.

I pray that the inhabitants of my lonely planet can defend themselves until I am present enough to provide backup.

You must fight this, she says again.

With each syllable a drum beats.

Or is it a heart beats?

Or is it the pounding of the wind?

Or the demon settling in on my abdomen?

Or the pulsating of each step until I reach safety leading the charge to defend my sanity.

Instead I lay in a drunken daze.

My actions stifled, thoughts hurried, worried in a slow, airless vacuum.

Floating.