Don’t Panic

To me…there is the possibility of

fear…

fear of what is known

fear of the unknown.

To me…there is the possibility of…

strange thoughts submerged in routine.

Always an angst devil looking over my shoulder…misinterpreting what I mean.

A heart so full it reaches into the throat.

Tranquility resides nearby…but never takes off her coat.

Panic, panic, say what?

Don’t panic, don’t panic…

the only words that I can breathe.

I look inward to a wild rose bush with thorns…

the beauty does not relieve.

Edgy

Plummeting to a gravel road.

Cascading city on wheels.

Eighteen wheeled miscreants.

Playing heavy metal solos to the articulation of my heart.

An infinitely booming question begs…

ON what is this sense of impending doom…fed?

Arguments with tension’s gods?

Or, shall I remain ‘fetal with anxieties odds?’

 

Punch drunk breaks of acceptance and it’s dawn…

Amass along my daily way.

Leaving me fetal at vanities reflection.

A righteous temptress would slay such a transgression.

Yet, I am but one woman.

Grasping at restless overgrown weeds with my shaky hands.

Adult!

However, infantile. I am.

A victim to panic’s potion.

Often found at wit’s end.

Frequently unaware of which commotion that will set the wheels of fear…

into motion.

 

 

 

the Panic

the panic 2

Torturing ourselves with recognition.

Gathering our celebrity…

such as,

distant family photos upon a wall.

Crosses on the highway…

fueling the anxiety we all know.

The offer still holds-

‘take me somewhere I do not wish to go’

Don’t want to be no court jester…

Don’t want no one to own the tears of my clown..

High anxiety is all I truly own.

the panic 1