Sing me a song.
Sing of days of folly.
Sing it sad...
Sing it as it is.
Sing its story.

Extend each syllable
into mournful vibratos.
Drown the
crests of choruses
with wrenching falsettos.

Let it be soft...
But sharp as a knife is keen.
Let it reach into my chest.
And grab at the lull in between.

So sing me a song.
Sing to me how I failed.
Serve me my sadness.
Sing to me...
My tale.

"I can see my door, my bed, my window, my chair, and my table.

"I can feel my spine against the wall, my feet against the floor, my jaw tightly shut, and my fingernails buried in my arms.

"I can hear the wind coming in from the open window, my heartbeat rapidly thumping, and that familiar voice in my head, shouting once again.

"I can smell the dampness of the ground outside as the breeze carries it to my room, and the sickly sweet odor from the soap used on my hands.

"I can ******* blood spilling from the bite in my lip; my last harsh reminder that
        I
        am      
        still
        alive.

You are a novel
gathering dust on my shelf
but not because I don’t want to read
but because I’m afraid
to turn the page,
afraid of how you’ll end

Love

Love,
A luxury common across mankind
But intriguingly,
Never experienced the same
Just never
Never
Just

I pine for,
     crescent moons
     and star-peppered skies.

I notice and hear,
     swaying silhouettes
     and whistling night breezes.

I anticipate,
     the expiring hours
     and dew-scented earth.

I only exist in,
     extended silences
     and shattered lenses.

.

The impatient soul awaits.
As crowds push towards the train.
He rushes to pass, can’t be late.
He looked at others, the insane.

He squeezed against and did shove.
They looked at him, silent grunts.
His angry mood, bared no love.
He was used to his way and wants.

One more push and catapults.
Into the air and did not fall.
He laughs at them, at their faults.
As he flies pass human walls.

Surprised, he got no attention.
He roared at them, till the last door.
His super power, that strengthened.
No longer waiting, he could soar.

Everyone looked to the left.
Train now expected delays.
Some tears were dropped as they wept.
A red end to someone’s day.

He flew back in that direction.
A sudden feeling, temptation.
There caught in the intersection.
His body, the impatient.

Why do I sit here
When I know what will happen
Why do I stay
When I know you're not here.
I know there's nothing to fear,
But it doesn't make it easier to tamp it down.

I hear the whispering voice in my head
Telling me lies that fill me with dread
She sounds like me, I know she isn't
She is my anxiety,
And I can't hide inside my own head.

When my hands shake and ache
And my stomach seems to spin
When the world goes blurry
My thoughts churn,
And they win.

My vision begins to tunnel
My breathing is hard and fast
I know panicking is pointless
Worrying is worthless
But it's so overwhelming, a tidalwave of terror that washes over me.

You ask why it's so hard without you here.
I need a grounding light
Something to guide me back
Without something to distract me from myself, I go black.
Without a hand to hold or a voice to cling to, I have lost myself again.

Without kindness, I cannot live.

"Worrying means you suffer twice!"

Easy for you to say,
Yet I live this. Worrying means you suffer more than twice.
Anxiety was never a choice, nor a sign of weakness or frailty.
I am not what I suffer from.
It came because I attempted to be strong enough for everyone.