“Anxiety”

Emptied eyes stare, reflect tender tension trying to tear through the terror from within, project shadows hanging precariously above vulture carved cheekbones weighted with tired turmoil. And you will glance down at your reddened raw ravaged palms and notice weeds sprouting from underneath your fingernails, their resilient roots pushing pushing, pushing like the voice in your head beckoning you to the edge, spouting reckless irrationalities as promiscuous as the fountain of life.  

“Fuck. You fucked up. You fucked up. you fucked up, you piece of shit, you stupid useless piece of shit.”

Shut up shut up shut up. Stop. Breath. Now do it again. Breath. Keep breathing breathing breathing. This is what I was meant to do. This is what I’m here for, I’m here for you they’ll say. They’ll keep you alive, if only so you’ll keep pushing the wind out of your lungs faster and faster and faster and faster until something fractures and shatters and breaks and eventually it will if it hasn’t already.

You will want to scratch out your irises to remove the dirt beneath your eyelids, plucking out eyelashes in a blind shameful misguided attempt to eradicate the infestation in your head. And eventually you’ll resort to poison pesticides disguised as pills to designed to kill those pesky dandelions developing beautifully around your faint diluted voice.

 

This was a poem I wrote after reading “Citizen: An American Lyric” by Claudia Rankine and then interviewing a friend about their experience of anxiety. My goal was to use more vivid imagery to preserve the feeling of being out of control and desperately trying to gain it back.