A poem called Anxiety.
I have nightmares every day;
Visions of clipped cars, car crashes
Busses rear-ending small Toyotas.
I have to pace when I wait
shaking hands into motionless buzz
They say it’s nervous energy.
I tell you the truth:
It’s thousands upon millions
of memories Pushing to exit me
I must contain them
I am Pandora’s Box.
I keep monsters in my head.
I am full of the stuff
under the bed of the world
where adam first slept with Eve.
I am the Beast stalking the corners
of my closet
The thing you hope is
Last week’s laundry your
Amygdala wants to run from.
Reptilian minds understand.
Visions dance in my eyes
Fire burning it’s dread path from a fry pan
shudder and shake
Move to keep moss from growing on a stone body sinking in a tepid
Lake where Mobsters of the mind
decide the Ripples of your decent
would be perfect to skip rocks over
and over and over
until I must slumber
for the next wave
when the phone rings
and I stand on a large Tall place
I want to vomit
To barf up my dread insides
and show them Dreams are all
a thing of the mind we fear will
Originally published at https://culturalsavage.com on November 24, 2020.