Breathe
Here I am on my day to day habits.
My arms are bent, stretching slightly to the top of my desk.
Finger straining, like if I were to stress my hands any further
my limbs might pop off.
My keyboard sloppily overlaid on my One tablet.
My pen somewhere off in obscurity.
Clutters around my desk,
Clutter in my brain more like [sarcastically].
I cannot prioritize my tasks,
tabs more than I can process.
I cannot delete any and my breathing restricts.
It grips me so, till I'm sputtering and gasping like an idiot
Remembering...
Remembering to fucking breathe!
And then the fear of it all coming crashing down,
the overflowing 'platter' obtuse and only for my gluttony of punishment.
I cannot let go.
I will not let go.
I fear the idea that someone worse than me might undo me,
might sack my life achievements and goals
or bolster me on false promises.
False niceties.
False smiles.
Oh, the fear it grips me so.
Breathe.
Remember to breathe,
like the 'bree' in the breeze.
The 'bre' in the Brew.
The soft churn of the tea,
the swirling turns and wisps of air that lick at me so.
If only to exhale first, rather than inhaling at all points.
Until I feel like my lungs might burst.
If only I could make the moment last forever.
If I could step outside and remember where I am,
who I am.
I am not more than my anxieties.
My traumas.
My experiences,
living here afraid to die.
But not of any death.
Just the death of those coming down to a final, crashing end.
Afraid to fall prey to the heart attach waiting to mask itself as panic.
But there is...
No panic.
No panic attacks.
No longer.
No more.
Only the terrible sudden death.
The death on my lips,
the death I expect.
The violent tumultuous death that I was always expecting
since my eleven years.
Since the dawn of my opening eyes.
Since I was born into the screaming and yelling household.
Since I was echoing, screaming and opening wide till their voices
screamed in tune with mine nearly a decade later.
Where will I go?
Where will I be?
When my final breath,
does come to me?