Once more

I almost died today. Once more.

No, My life didn't scratch itself bloody behind my eyelids. In fact, no darkness or fear carve itself in my flesh or letter itself in the dripping blood.

My breath didn't hitch, capturing itself in the net of death disallowing itself from escaping that cavity of my body. My hands didn't twitch, itching to fight . They didn't want to act on their own accord, only staying as limp to my side as my mind commanded.

My legs were not jello. They were not going to saw off the circulation behind my knee caps or tense like a lion going to kill its prey.

Near death is nothing like they say. Any of those lies. The strings of a puppet tying itself closer to your voice, trying to smother your curiosity. But if your still reading then the strings haven't started splicing into the cords of your song.

No, this isn't fantasy. No great adventure. Actually, to be completely honest, I've come to manipulate you.

Oh, how wrongly that word had been dotted. Only the true to know the word will paint the writer red. Will scream at the crowds and the crowds will scream back. The writer man hidden below the stage will only write about their greatness. Only to start the cycle once more.

Don't read if your not the least bit curious about my near death once more. Or about the manipulation that will ensue.