What It’s Like For Me: A Ode to Anxiety
It’s damn near impossible to escape it;
you can puff on a pen
or down a tiny pill,
but it’s still there
like a restless giant waking from a dormant slumber.
Once released, it’s much too hard
to be smart, or kind, or productive…
I’m the marionette to it’s Stromboli.
My heart races, my hands start to sweat
and like the tide rushing back to the ocean
all the heat leaves my body.
The words I know I should say
become imprisoned by feelings that dictate
what I eventually do manage to say,
feelings much stronger than I know what to do with.
Feelings that shapeshift into fears and phobias
and I desperately want to do something,
anything to let the air out of this shaken up 2-liter bottle of pop.
But I know if I twist the cap, I’m playing with fire
and nobody is safe…
I sink into it, acknowledge it and pray
that there isn’t anybody stupid enough to asks me for a drink…
(c) Copyright Held 2018 by Alicia Rautenberg
Please do not reproduce without permission