when it seeps into my pores my hands shake
no one can see it but I know it's there
it may not exist but it still makes me panic.

it is 3:14 and I can't control the weather
sometimes giraffes stick their heads in the clouds to see better
sometimes I make up facts to distract myself from the panic.

it is 3:16 and I can feel it in my bloodstream
of course there's nothing there but my panic notes otherwise
if this is a disease why am I the only one dying?

it's 3:19 and you put your hands on mine.
the warmth washes over my skin and I feel the tension escaping,
like you are ******* the venom from a fresh wound.

it's 3:58 and you are still here
I can feel you seeping into my skin but
there is no panic.