Whether she blamed him or he blames she
The fall was always meant to be.
The gift of knowledge,
Forever blessed,
Born from the woman’s mess.
Yes it is she, she
Who stole the apple from the tree,
But it was also he, he
Who ate the fruit with glee.
Forgiven but yet to forget,
The malevolent serpent it was they met.
For even if the blame is on he or on she,
There would be no Eden without
A serpent and a tree.

Shallow breaths,
tight chest,
blurry vision,
No rest.
*******
by my thoughts:
make it stop...
‘give it all you’ve got.’
Head spinning,
hope dwindling.
Skin burning,
bones chilling.
Drowning in air
a sinking ship;
dying of thirst,
and I don’t get a drip.
Surrounded by an ocean
and I can’t see
anything.
I can’t hear
for the life of me.
This feeling
I swear
is killing 
me.
Whispering:
“give in
don’t get up
stay home
you’re not enough.
Even if there’s nothing wrong:
walk out the door
and harm
will come”
This ubiquitous feeling
draping
over me,
enveloping
everything,
wet,
and weighted...
bet you’ve never hated
someone so much
you’d stab them in the chest
and without a moments rest
grab them at the throat
so tight they can’t whisper a note
and leave them wondering
if they’ve even given their best
after their whole self feels negated.

**This hate,  
this punishment 
or something,
draped
over me
so viciously
is known as:
Anxiety.