Brains!

I'm getting hit hard.
It's depressingly lonely and silent, except for the steady breathing in all places of the house.
Dark and way too hot, I can't escape everyone's contented exhaling.
Dread that has suddenly consumed me.
It's stolen my inhales, rolled a rock on my chest.
I can't help but think there's something going unsaid.
When there is only one person left to hear from, does paranoia from reliance grow like a choking vine?
Maybe it's more grand. It always is.
Maybe it's the tree the vine grows on, crippled and long since spoken too.
Forgetting, or maybe even burying deep within it's rings hope, passion and determination.
Satisfaction, in exchange of risk.