anxiety is a flood
it comes in slowly
but suddenly drowning  me

it is a constant tapping pencil
beating in an irregular beat
frantically accelerating in speed

it is a small room
filled with boisterous people
gradually engulfing me

anxiety is a breath of fresh air
refreshing  as I take a breath in
satisfaction as I exhale

youd think they wouldve already replaced you
with knew and improved technology
but no you hang around my keychain
weighing down my purse

you make the most annoying jingles
and clutter my mind with useless worry
as i fumble around in search of you
and when i eliminated all your key friends
you pop up just at the right time

do you ever get depressed?
knowing that your the reason for insecurity
and every other anxiet you cause
why cant we just have open doors?

its a child's canvas
instead of boring paint bristles
feet are the utensils
the mushy feeling of play-doe
gushes between each toe

the wet slippery mud
carries oneself away
soon the hands cant help but join in
scooping mud by the handfuls
and unleashing imagination

somewhere over the sidewalk crack
a voice calls out in frustration
the mud is dry and crackling now
like chapped lips

a voice calling to go inside  
take a bath
but somewhere outside
in the mud castle
a little bud is sprouting

a crooked tree stands
boney, naked and hunched over
longing for leaves

invisible force
sometimes playful, other times bitter
wind flows like a wave