Nerves

It's a wave of sensation that begins in your feet, ringing your ankles and shooting in cold prickling spikes of flame up your legs, pulsing against your shins with every stride, settling as angry embers in your joints, sending waves of shivers racing up your body as your blood distills and the sweat begins to drip. It's a lithographic assault, the Gaea revenge, a disease you have to learn to counter or ignore to survive. It's not your place to protest, you, as transgressor, must accept this penance as your due. Laugh as you embrace the fire shooting up your limbs. It's an invasion, as waves of heat wash down your throat and shocks, shivers radiate out, pushed back farther and farther with every desperate gulp. Push your emotions out of your fingers and your feet to attain perfection in emptiness more beautiful than the purest ecstasy. Hold it off as long as you can, let your mind rest in the cold, clean bliss of untormented logic. Hold it off as long as you can, cling fast to your numbness... but your feet always pull it back, your bones are greedy, as the color spirals, rushing back up and around, encasing your skeleton in a riot of feeling and warmth. It takes another to push it down into your bones, stop it writhing through your skin, shuddering through your fingers and pulling at your eyes, rushing through your ears and washing away your focus and sense of self, of reality. It pulses manicly, in and out, in and out, eroding your skin and your apathy.