Migrane

​I can feel it like the remnants of a spider’s web; Tickling the base of my head. 

But unlike the web, it’s pure electricity building a charge and preparing to immobilize- seconds, sometimes minutes of attack. 

I wince at the aftershocks, thankful they are the lesser evil.

 Involuntarily, my head nods – hello? Okay, I surrender.

 I stare out at nothing in particular,  closing my eye as the tickle begins again. 

No point in crying out, they don’t hear me anymore. 

And I’m already aware of the agony.

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