quiddity

stress is a car careening towards you

as your feet are anchored to the pavement.

stress is an alarm screaming for you to wake

that your body is too heavy to silence.

it lives in your skin

it beads at your brow

it stutters in your chest

it is how we live now

and we just let it consume us

without a word of complaint.

but could i ever live without it breathing down my neck?

i've known it so long it feels like a friend.

a friend who laughs at my clothes, my shoes, my thighs

a friend who has that green glint in their eye

and they whisper to me "don't you want to die?"

it weighs over me, and i say, "no."

but sometimes i lie when things aren't going well.