Pulsenoise Waiter

by fragmentedspeech

When the ancient feeling hits you in the dentist’s office you know it won’t last long. The strange pulsing vibration from beneath the green carpet. Do you know what this is? Do you know what it’s from? The wooden benches remind you of the bone chairs you sat in long ago and the stares are the mountain side drenched in life. This silly taunting tiny room terrifies your conservative subconscious view making your eye balls blister and your stomach wretch it’s slightest notion. Your feet touch the fossils embedded in the floor and the pulses start again. You know the vibrations all too well by this point. The terror Carries on it’s plague of irrationality for thousands of years. Your skin is okay but the bones are used for better things.

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