Said body and senses and instinct and suspense prepare for the violent outbreak of a sneeze.
All that mattered previous to this spasm is as insignificant as a comb to a dying man.
Even breathing would hinder this fixation with readiness of what is inevitable.
I raise my hands in surrender or perhaps simply to coordinate with
The expulsion of air from my lungs and the base of me.
My nasal mucosa and whatever supposed to
Has been irritated and this release
This inevitable exoneration is
On the verge but soon
God will bless me
And I… I…
I choose my words carefully as I narrate accounts and anecdotes of my happenings as of late.
Unlike the fumbling of a programmer who garbles through blurred code and languages,
I paint imagery with sentences as colorful ribbons would blow in the wind at a parade.
And then… suddenly, like some silent, violent sneeze and the void it leaves behind
What was once there is no longer before my memory or the eye of my mind.
A cord has been severed between my brain and my motor skills.
Words not yet said are on the tip of my tongue
As the sneeze was at the base of my lung
Or a familiar tune heard not quite sung.
Something is amiss and near
Will you be there?