30 Minutes till my meds kick in
I will eventually get relief from this anxiety. I will. Scribble scribble. Inhale on the end of a cigarette. I am ok in the spaces. The spaces where no one exists. My poison caterpillar eyebrows are crawling across my face. Weird light and smoke that isn't there. Jesus hanging out on the guardrail. A big truck. 5 seconds of calm wondering where he is hauling his load and how long he's been on the road. Then an engine rev from a sports car like a caveman beating his wife. My brain itches. The calm is gone. The sound of my phone is the unloading of 5 rounds. The mail is stress delivered to my heartbeat. Pound, pound, like a boxing glove. Rush hour breathing. The tick of the second hand is a sermon. But that too shall pass. The crash of people dumping garbage trashes me. Flowers on the table. Yes, I'll look at the flowers on the table to calm down. Somebody's screaming. It's me. Tears are God's balm. I can't eat but I'm starving. Force down a piece of bread (no butter.) I remember the bushes, holy in the moonlight and dark telling me remember when you could talk yourself to peace and how that's gone now? Lost in my room in my childhood home. Grabbing my forehead of worry. Hell flashing in my face. Clutch the hand of God. I am exploding. 10 deep breaths. I have to leave. I can't go anywhere. Bed bugs eating sleep. If only a holy oil would pour all over. Doom is my constant companion. My stomach is filled with termites. Everything shuts the hell up...my meds just kicked in... Social Anxiety Blues #1 the supermarket is swarming me like a swat team I only wanted a banana
Bio: Dan Flore III’s poems have appeared in many publications. He has five chapbooks, the latest is WRITTEN IN THE DUST ON THE CEILING FAN.