fear is useless.
or at least, it should be.
it isn't.
fear stands on the edge of hope and teeters
until it falls, it tumbles, it drops to its death
and your stomach goes with it.
fear leaves your mouth dry
and your lips chapped
and a vile taste on your tongue,
but maybe those are just excuses.
there's a possibility
that all your deliberate shortcomings
and bewildered apprehensions
are just rocks in the landslide,
simply supports for the growing fortification
that is your inescapable fear.
maybe it all adds up.
maybe fear is what keeps us safe.
can you tell I've begun to make friends with her?
I'm finally letting her in.
she tells me things,
she whispers in my ear:
"you are correct, your misgivings are confirmed."
she's like a fortune teller that way;
she reads my shaking palms
and listens for the wind, my psalms
sung softly in the darkness.
she knows she can convince me
that I'm right.
I'm tired of waiting for the fear to break.
spiraling downwards through the void
somewhere between dread
and senseless anxiety;
I've been here before.
there's still a hole in the floor.
I'm keeping myself awake.
I'm crashing to the ground and resurrecting
with a cold sweat and broken arms.
tell me it's not going to be all right.
I only want the satisfaction of knowing,
finally, that my fear is rational.
I'm terrified.
so let me know.