The anxiety I feel is a thunder storm brewing in my stomach
It looms like dark heavy clouds,
wringing droplets of sweat from my forehead like a tightly twisted towel of wet hair
My thoughts are as agitated as a swarm of locusts in their gregarious phase
stuck inside my body
They beat against the curvature of my ribs like paranoid mockingbirds repeatedly warding off their reflections on windows

Fear feeds off the burning acid surging around the pounding fist between my lungs
The tunnel entry to my throat is dry
my breaths short and shallow
I’m drowning in my own inward tears frantically waving my paralyzed arms
I have only myself to save myself
Then, a split in the clouds snatches my attention focusing on searching for safer ground
I methodically breath deep and slow to find my onward way
I look back, exhausted, with a sense of close call, a narrow escape...
Wondering if next time I’ll make it