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Oct 2015
I wasn't late
But I may as well be
All the seats are taken
I've been dragging my wheels
Over strangers' feet
I'm too exausted to apologise
Too stressed to take notice
I am close to tears
Hot and discombobulated
I'd hoped for tables
But I'm jammed against the door
By football fans
And teens on daytrips
Pressing against my back, my thighs
Hot breath and perfume wafting
Hands accidentally stroking
A lady's hand
And a sudden jolt within
Tips my stomach
It feels acidic
I've dreamt about this, before
Always afraid that nausea
Will arise during the worst times
So of course it tends to
And this trip is no different
Heat prickles my chest and my hands
No room to reach for the phone
To ring mum
To escape for time alone
But instead my throat constricts
I know I'm not sick
With a virus or bad food
But regardless something stirs
A grimace forms
A familiar thought
Of terror
A fear of what?
But my own body failing
Tumbling over an unsuspecting crowd
The journey is short enough
But couldn't be any longer
About anxiety causing nausea which causes yet more anxiety. I have a phobia of *****.
Written by
Mokomboso  In the junge somewhere
(In the junge somewhere)   
   mrs kite, SPT and Gary L
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