Why are we so quick
to refer to a story we've read
or heard,
in past tense?
As if just because we're done with it, it no longer exists

Sometimes it feels like every nerve in my body
Is moving and pulsing
And electricity is running through my veins
But all the while
My muscles feel too heavy to move
And its so confusing
That I forget how to breathe
And even though I've been in the same spot for ages
My lungs burn like I've ran miles
Underwater
My fingers only graze the fresh air it tries to hold onto
And even though I feel like I can't stop
Everyone and everything around me is going faster
Images and colors and words and memories and fears
Are flashing
Within seconds
And my heart beats along to the rapid show
Pounding with only a second in between
Each palpitation.
Begs me to make it stop
So sometimes I wonder
If I should
Make it stop