Analogous to (being mine) security blanket
similar, but not identical
to the trademark one
clutched by Linus Van Pelt,
I take flight into sleep
courtesy holding fictional little yellow bird,
a mutual best friend of Snoopy.

While drifting off into dreamland
holding tight to said stuffed animal,
yours truly listens to the drip...drip...drip
of wet clothes air drying on the rack.

Additionally to supplement aural experience,
I incorporate deep sleep music
frequently binaural beats
found thru youtube.

Though ye (dear reader) might snicker
at me (as if writer of these words
heralds from Mars, or considered
an alien creature from the outer limits
of the twilight zone,
where dark shadows flourish
in tandem with mysteries of the Milky Way)
regarding yours truly
snuggling with an inanimate stuffed animal,
I attest clinging for dear life
to aforementioned stuffed toy.

I frequently experienced profound social anxiety
(mitigated courtesy prescription medications),
and ofttimes feel like taking flight,
as adrenaline courses (née rushes)
and rattles these lovely bones of mine,
particularly when yours truly
finds himself within madding crowd.

One hapless generic garden variety guy
(me, an aging baby boomer
formerly many scores earth orbitz ago,
a long haired pencil necked geek)
plagued with panic attacks since... birth
experienced accursed
lifetime psychological providence,
where profound anxiety prevailed.

Impossible mission to describe
how fast paced life in general
generates utter confusion
analogous to floundering trout
besieges mine mental redoubt
seeping into crevices,
then sealing nooks and crannies of psyche
courtesy impenetrable grout
emotional helter skelter all about
as if mine entire body (eel) electric

forced, kickstarted, subjugated...
to perform (yes folks) hokey pokey
mental gears and cogs
snapping, crackling, popping
inside tumbler like noggin
purportedly linkedin hashtagged
with said mild personality disorder
punctuated with debilitating panic attacks,
hence qualification clinched
for social security disability.

Onset of emotional paralysis
ofttimes in the past
stopped me dead in my figurative track
metaphorically wishing me to skuttle
back into hermetically sealed manhole
invisible among interleaved bract
where safe and sound
within mine secret cubby hole
also known as apartment b44
at Highland Manor in Schwenksville.

While listening to natural soundtrack,
frequently variation upon binaural beats,
as iterated above or
soothing relaxation by
Peder B. Helland,
an enjoyable youtube track
I imagine playing knick knack paddywhack...
as well as really idling away leisure time
occupied with other favorite pastimes
such as: playing solitaire, scrabble,

reading – after qua cracking
binding of newly purchased books,
(usually at Liberty Thrift Store)
crafting poems, occasionally
testing my chess skills
pitted against computer, backgammon,
as well as solve crossword puzzles
meditate (on the gift of a watermelon pickle)
to self hypnotize snapchatting,
kickstarting, buzzfeeding biofeedback.