Air squeezing out of lungs like toothpaste.
Eyes suddenly steely,
lids vanishing.
Pressure saturates jaw, nose, temple.
Teeth grind.

It looks at you.
Your neck snaps to meet it's gaze,
and it's gone.

You're head scrambles.
Et droite, et gauche.
Et droite, et gauche.
Et droite, et gauche.

But it's too quick for you.
You know it's there,
you feel it in your bones.
Staring,
Gawking.
Mocking.

The air burns yellow.
Heart thumps in your ears,
in your clenched fists,
in your unfortunate, trapped fingers.

Air floods your mouth,
But ignores your lungs;
They are frozen.

Slowly color slips in.
Your chest raises spasmically.
Plumits.
The sound is startling.
It's been years since you breathed.