Venomous Intrusive and Irrational

The night is warm and silent, breezeless trees stand still as corpses,
Intrusive venomous thoughts begin to enter through old wounds,
Convulsions of memory shake themselves into a distorted reality,
The familiar unwanted feeling begins to ripple itself up the spine,
Discomforts’ creeping fingers create a buzz at the back of the neck,
The skin begins to crawl, numb at first, before the unreachable itch,
It feels like a thousand tiny spiders suddenly marching across the skin,
The edges of vision begin to dull and darken into shadowy haze,
Uneasy hands begin to reach for the nearest item of solid comfort,
But it’s too late, we have arrived, the rational mind has left the building,
Now, there is only panic.