Within the silent shadowy tomb protected by my psyche,
It’s not time to analyze and paralyze, yet it feeds nonetheless,
Like a ravenous vulture…
Sucking up little morsels of anxiety and doubt-
Mushrooming them into catastrophic conclusions.
Oozing its septicity from its tiny cell,
It infects the core of me and sets my thoughts afire.
I sing it soothing words, hoping to calm the beast.
Still it attaches to stray thoughts and amplifies itself.
It feels like my heart is being pulled into my stomach.
I breathe and reassure myself that this is all purposeless,
There are no actions to take.
Yet it festers and pesters and fails to slow.
Bringing with it impairment…
Or is its presence simultaneous to them?
No evidence – no solution.
Why not, add it to the pile,
It’s not like we need elbow room in here anyway.
Go ahead, weave your webs,
Plant your seeds of doubt.
Take my breath and balance.
I’ll just adapt and survive…
And in the end,
Remind you that you’re still an asshole.