It is panic
about to fall to your
But you feel it every single damn day-even when you’re taking the
and still being convinced that
when you tip your chair a little
too far back and the next movement
will decide if you are going to
go back to sitting up right
It is having the best time of your life
and suddenly feeling so
and like you
b r e a t h e
Spinning circle . . . which way is up?
which way is down?
It is vases of roses
Splashes of red- – water, prickly stems, soft petals
f l y i n g
through the air.
Millions of p i e c e s
f r a g m e n t s —
tiny microcosms of a
spattered on the wall
for all to see.
Eyes trying to make sense of it all.
Voices stain the skin
“It’s all going to be okay.”
“We love you.”
“It’s just a phase.”
“Girl, you’re just stressed. This will blow over.”
“Why do you always over react? Just chill out. God. You’re too sensitive.”
Inner thoughts and outer words mix
sputters of venom from the lips
judgement seeps into the soul
for it all to stop
But like an alarm clock blaring at the first sight of
the sun rising in the sky- warm, bright, golden, glowing-
it won’t stop interrupting the–
no matter how many times you hit snooze
or wake up or become so exhausted you can’t think straight
the alarm clock must be reset