These knotted guts
eject my pulsating heart,
while I wait for my welfare
to imminently crumble–
I’m lunging from my vessel.
I frantically survey for danger,
but the culprits remain covert–
I turn up empty on my basis.
But failing to subside, I wonder…
do the wires of my diagnosis
wrap me in incessant neurosis?
Or has conditioning to trauma
trained my brain to fear?
Regardless I remain engulfed
by this looming devastation,
and my neck constantly aches
from looking over my shoulder.