This is anxiety.
Gut wrenching, stomach turning, too much to handle with a level head.
Fists of fear are pounding my front lobes in rhythm to a heavy heart;
the count down is reaching it's final mark.
There's not enough oxygen to fuel shallow breaths and racing thoughts.
The ceiling has no answers, closed eyes offer only temporary relief;
no corner of the unconscious mind is safe.
Beat some sense out of fraught, wide eyed brown bag attacks.
Dig in the nails of cold, clammy hands to beg for peace;
stinging subsides to throbs of sense.
Get it in your head and know that whatever it might mean for now,
this is not the end.
Keeping busy trying to avoid everything and everyone. Going to sleep early is no luxury when I wake myself up constantly with an overactive mind and disconcertingly real dreams.
To dream safely:
DON'T watch before bed
DO watch before bed
Sweet dreams/lego sing-alongs.
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