slowly trickling around your nape
making a full turn to succumb your throat.
It’s a sinking feeling,
leaning down on your shoulders
embracing with an irrational discomfort.
A silent lullaby,
making you shut your tired eyes
enticing you so it can finally take over.
You won’t let it,
forcing your eyes to open
but feeling the consequential pain.
not because you let it.
It’s really more powerful than you.
It consumes you.
There’s nothing you can do
but wait and feel its presence, its nomancy.