Most Anxieties are monsters, Mine are Ill


Most poems talk about anxieties as if they are loud.

Loud, blaring sirens warning you about every tighening of muscle,

like breathing too loud would trigger a mob of misfortune and worse kind of humilation

The turning of the peoples necks, wondering to insult you or laugh; thinking youre annoying and crude. 

and if  this sounds familiar and is too relatable. 

I want your anxieties. 


My anxieties are nearly silent, 

just tapping in the darkest corner of my head, until they fade into the background noise of my daily life.  

My anxieties are like old, yellowing, silver spoons held together in weak hands with strong wrists. 

My anxieties are this tapping reminding me they are there like the ghost from next door tapping through the wall of my apartment building telling me not to forget.

the tapping becomes the beat to your daily life, like the soothing rhyme to the song they're supposed to play at your funeral. 

So when the tapping stops, you have nothing to dance to.

And just like it danced you so peacefully into the night sky

the same anxieties will hold you right in front of our moon and in that dazzling light,

Sashay, turn, dip,


Letting me go to fall

Letting a metal post pierce through my back

Letting my tears roll down my face while I watch red diamonds drip from the sespendid heart as it is held up on the spike just above me, hoovering above my chest. mocking me. 

My anxieties is a serial romancer. 

like everytime I hear its tapping I feel relieved with the worst kind of stockholmes. 

so when I hear poems about loud anxiety I can't help to think,

that I eny the silence, because I must be loud. 

So each day I start my performance, as the stage is set.

and let the puppets dance. because I live for the time of day where my anxiety sweeps me off my feet and holding my face, gentle whispers "you were nothing before me"

because I am the singer without a voice, the dancer without leg.

Most anxiety with attack full on.

while mine sleeps inside my heart. 

they have of me is convinced that I am mediocrity and they will supplant me. 

like only their actions will make me memorable. 






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