cold stream of air,
clear, raw sky, rare
wisps and little shrouds
or shawls of clouds
fast fleeting.

low sun lancing,
screened less
by intervening
trees' unleaved undress.

I stand in fleece
and boots, out back
a breath, a break
of afternoon, the stir,
to mark the slide away
of bright and shivering day.

this feeling is overwhelming.

it's like no matter what, my thoughts are waves crashing, a storm at it's most powerful point.
i'm not sure how to fix it and i'm not sure that i want to.
it's a part of me like water is a part of the shore and couldn't make sense for the water to disappear.
just like it doesn't make sense for my anxiety to disappear because without it, i am not me.
therefore if you ever find me stranded do not try to rescue me.
*you will get lost too and regret it.