Panic

If I close my eyes, I can
Almost smell the fear.
It takes hold of my body,
Covering it in a glossy fog.
My skin feels like leather
As I run my fingertips across my flesh.
I reach my wrist,
Pulse racing
Like the drum of a death march.
Driving me mad with
Its incessant thrum.
Threatening the end
That I so hoped for.
Frantic and jumbled,
Thoughts swirling in a mixed array.
Trapped inside my own mind,
My own body.

My own body.
The feeling in my fingers begins to weaken
As I try to intertwine them,
And
I pray for that sunshine against my window.
Closing my eyes does not help.
It never helps.
I can still feel everything,
And anything.
I am a prisoner to my own mind.
For the next few hours I lay awake,
Trying to burn out the thoughts
Blocking them any way I can.
Yet, they win.
They always win.
I can’t shut them out long enough to think,
Long enough to close my eyes in peace.
I am a prisoner to my own mind.

My body, mind, and soul are no longer mine.
When that silky heat envelopes my body
I crumble and give in,
Melting into the sheets,
Sinking into the cotton fibers.
I cannot breathe.
I am immobile.
Suffocating in obscurity.
I try to hug myself
In hopes that I can
Pretend I’m not alone in this.
But, I am.

I am a prisoner to my mind.
The walls are too high to climb.
The bars too thick to escape.
I am trapped behind these walls.
I am trapped by my own mistakes.

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