it’s a pen of bulls in your stomach
the wonder, the not-knowing, the what-ifs, whens coulds and might-bes
the numbers on an oxygen tank dwindling down

too many thoughts becoming their own creatures,
tearing down cities that we carry inside

it’s leaves shivering from an island wind,
the people running away from shore

that moment when you slip on ice and you don’t know if you’ll catch yourself

it’s dying, not knowing where you’ll go
and space, not comprehending how vast

counting all the possibilities in the universe and only thinking
about the most horrific ones
some of us always live in worst case scenarios
and i,
have not yet mastered the art of surviving them.