......Anxiety,
shoots,
through my body.
it tears, through my neck,
and back
gunning for both the top,
and bottom
of my spinal column,
nerves,
firing
like a mob,
bearing torches.
They're set, to topple,
the stoic statue
in the town's square,
and then break it, to nothing.
Limbs, roped
and body,
teeters
on the verge, of utter collapse.
...I'm twisting, and tying
my own ponytail,
into jangled knots.
My throat, tenses
around the swollen ****
That sits, like a chunk, of apple
at the base,
of the throat.
It's hard to swallow.
I hate it, here. I hate it
But it's fine, and it's fine, and it's fine
and my heart hardly beats,
and my skin, secretes
not one line of sweat.
I find the colorful,
scattered fragments
Of my best face,
in my back pocket,
and my purse
and I put them on, in rapid layers.
Dot.dot.dot., across the cheeks,
and eyes.
Dash-dash-dash-
through the brows, and lashes.
My finger, swipes,
through the pan, of gloss.
Then it's dot.dot.dot,
upon the lips,
and, we're done.
The mask, is set
and the performer,
Takes, to the stage.
...S.O.S.
My distress code,
is written in,
to the fake-up.
It's in the DNA,
of a chaotic,
clean-girl aesthetic.
...But all anyone, ever sees
is the charisma,
and curves
beneath a floating pair,
of haunted blue eyes.