Anxiety’s got its boot to the neck

As much as I demand it

let up,

anxiety keeps its boot to my throat,

leaving me

crevices to breathe

while all my instincts shout

get out

get out,

get up

run

before each smiling stranger

hiding fangs

(so hungry)

finishes the job–

mustn’t let

anyone see me this way,

I’m, yeah,

I’m okay

((an invisible cord around my ribs

squeezing my sponge lungs thin,)

tongue a knot

to say a comprehensible word or two,)

just breathe

prey to the predator

just breathe

pray to the sepulchre

that we make it out alive

just breathe

and breathe

and breathe

and–

***

check out my book at this link