Pins and needles. A tingling that rose from the depths of the deepest recesses of feelings in the heart. Slowly it spread itself upwards and outwards, as if time had ceased, so it did not matter the distance. It rose from the great depths, powerful, overwhelming. If not halted it would drown the very essence of the soul, but then again that was the purpose.

A drowning would take place at that moment, and it owuld last just as long as it could. Holding onto every ounce of power it had. Nothing would penetrate the barrier it would create, not if it could be manipulated, controlled, empowered to do the will of the parasite; for that is what it was, a parasite, a virus, it effected all it touched and it used it to further its purpose, dominion of the body, the mind. Complete control, if only for an instant, and then it would fade, never to be seen again until next it was called upon.

The sensation filled the eternity of depth that every soul has, it floated the sunken spirit up and gave false hope of the possibility of a tomorrow without pain, without stress. Truely the worst disease mankind possesed, that of falseness. It effects everyone equally, no one is immune to the pain it creates.

A pure feeling of joy followed in its wake, pure bliss. Insecurities were washed in forgetfulness, doubts were lulled to sleep with hopes. The world could be at an end and yet it would come second to this sensation.

Then it escaped. Fleeting and swift, like that of rain through a net, ignoring all and avoiding all in its quest for the ground. But, oh, to stay like that forever. Maybe it was life that was the disease, life that caused the pain. Another needle was found.

Pins and needles. . .

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