Panic Poetry In Prose

Panic in prose
It starts off as a steely resolve to be…steel.

I will not be moved. I will not be moved.
I will fix my mind and not be blind to what is really going on

A cascade of chemical effects begin to disburse thru my nervous system.

Is this a joke? I know what’s happening. Why can’t I make it stop?

In this self-aware nightmare my chest tightens like a snare
From a deconditioned position I spring to my feet like my legs are hydraulics

I pace to my own heart’s race
Wishing I could bawl I suppress my caterwaul

Banging my body into the walls like a pinball
Clawing at my arms and legs the back of my throat filled with gall

Breathless I stand writing rhymes to heal
I wait for my beta blocker to kick in to stem the reel
I’ve never known a more brutal and dehumanizing countdown
Shaking under the pressure I long to sit down

Since 2017 it’s been one crisis after another
And then this year I lost my mother
The pain in the voice of my grandmother when she found her dead
Has shattered me
I’m really not certain there’ll be a recovery

I try so hard to press on and do the normal things
But from sunrise to sunset I never know what the next cycle brings

I do know that crying feels so very good
But, sometimes I can’t cry no matter how hard I try

I wish I could cry instead of panic
Let the tears wash my pain instead of feeling frantic

Yoga, meditation, breathwork, and good friends
my cat, my keyboard, and my cousin’s pens
I gather these things around me trying to make a nest
To save my soul from the beating in my chest

I sometimes wonder if I’ll make it out alive
Even with my willingness & efforts will I ever get truly free to thrive

Shoes dropping all over the place
Forced from one precipice to another
Surely there is some unseen demonic bullwhip cracking at my back
It’s 2 am and I am a penned insomniac