My stomach twists and churns typhoon like.
A change in the atmosphere, thick and clinging to me like a damp rag.
A storm's brewing, cumulonimbus pushing my brow down, I can't breathe.
Has someone turned the gravity up, it presses on my weak and weary muscles, not again, not now, not here, please.
The storm continues to rage inside me,
Low level electricity up and down my arms.
I'm frightened, I know I'm not going to die, am I?
I plant my feet, to ground me and stop the movement.
There is no safe place, no where to shelter.
My body knows something I don't,
one day I hope to hear it, to understand.
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