Anxieties Hands

I have a hand that lives around my heart.

I feel it there. My heart resting in its calloused Palm.

Careful now. Don't breath in too deep. Not wanting the knuckles to press into the wrong side of my chest.

The hand likes to squeeze my heart. I feel where each finger contracts into the resistants.

My heart beats faster, my breath more ragged. My vision blurred, my pulse racing. A cold sweat forms and the walls begin to shrink in.

I wait for the hands to finish their fun. Until it wants to play again.