deepundergroundpoetry.com
0h, anxious me.
all oxygen is getting away from me--
jumping out of my trachea before
I can get it far enough into my lungs
to make brain funtion feasible.
the pressure is already too high in there;
maximum capacity met this morning when I
woke up in a cold sweat,
clinging to my dreams
because I told myself they were real.
In the night someone
snuck in my home.
they saw into my mind,
collecting the clouds of smoke that have shrouded
my judgements for the past few weeks.
they measured them, weighed them,
placing them on a scale,
balancing them with an equal amount of
bricks.
then through my ear they replaced the smoke,
and proceeded to place the bricks on my chest.
how can I be expected to be a productive member of
anything today
when breathing is so fucking difficult?
time escapes with the air from my lungs,
each passing hour another brick on my chest,
another cup of coffee, aggravating my condition.
another restless day,
another restless night.
Oh, anxious me.
jumping out of my trachea before
I can get it far enough into my lungs
to make brain funtion feasible.
the pressure is already too high in there;
maximum capacity met this morning when I
woke up in a cold sweat,
clinging to my dreams
because I told myself they were real.
In the night someone
snuck in my home.
they saw into my mind,
collecting the clouds of smoke that have shrouded
my judgements for the past few weeks.
they measured them, weighed them,
placing them on a scale,
balancing them with an equal amount of
bricks.
then through my ear they replaced the smoke,
and proceeded to place the bricks on my chest.
how can I be expected to be a productive member of
anything today
when breathing is so fucking difficult?
time escapes with the air from my lungs,
each passing hour another brick on my chest,
another cup of coffee, aggravating my condition.
another restless day,
another restless night.
Oh, anxious me.
Published 24th Jan 2010
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24th Jan 2010 10:55pm
...becoming tight in the chest after reading this, which is a good measure of the poem's effectiveness. Giving all fear and worries solid form and having a mystery person place them on you like bricks describes exactly how anxiety for many feels. Your final line blurts out that desperation. If you feel this way as of now, Anita Marie then you could try asking what's the worst that can happen - followed by repeating to yourself 'everything is happening perfectly' until your breathing normalises and you start to feel better.
25th Jan 2010 3:34am
thank you for the advice. I've never thought of myself as an anxious person, but it's been uncontrollable as of late. Writing this piece actually calmed me down.
