The beast asleep within my aorta

I feel the plum colored veins vibrate near the surface. It's a tingling sensation, a minor pinch. I ignore it because the pain means nothing. Yet, I know that this pain may mold into my story. A literal heart attack is a real possibility for me. It's only a matter of time before the tingling in my left foot, the numbness of my thumbs, and the blurry vision take over as persistent feelings. 

It is a joke for now. I laugh with friends about my impending health problems, caused by my own delicate diet of French fries and chicken wings from the corner Kennedy's. Why question the satisfaction of instant gratification this instant?

Just retreat into a clammy cave and tune into the scheduled programming. As the video player buffers, I feel my heart change pace. The pain is taking a new, complex form. It identifies itself as the beast in my river of organs. It squirming within me, silently. My aorta screams a small yelp that I barely notice.

I raise your hand to your chest and cup the sides to feel around for the presence of pain. The beast playfully draws its attention to me. The veins feel constricted. The pain which is the beast, seizes my heart, becoming a thin, fragile frame sliced off the time space continuum. I am frozen in this moment, concerned that the beast may have won.

But thank god, I've caught a break. He recedes within and reaches for slumber. As the beast sits in the womb of my heart, I let my worries of heart attack be whooshed away. I am probably mistaken. I tell myself beast is a myth, it's a temporary phase.

Consume the soda by the liter and share the laughter with friends. No need to fear a little heart pain.  At least, not yet.