it's a low-grade panic
lurking in the soul
simmering in silence

i distract
my restless hands
coat my neck in talismans
each layer, a clear gloss
but cracked

reflecting back
what i have lost

i have trained
my train of thoughts
to avoid things that cause
maladies

but something deep
inside of me
rebels against
what i've been taught
seeks out the stops
that ******* me
twists around my limbic tree
so i am left in knots