When something terrible faces
me, I choose option
three
(the one cavemen never
thought existed):
freeze

yep, I am an inventor of the invisible
indecisive
slow-thinking
coward

life is monstrous, savage and cold.
My heart; a ticking time-bomb waiting to get old.
Frantic whispers in my head "no time left, no time left "
Time is an ambush predator, agile and adept.
Lost in an abyss, only glimpses of far away stars, out of reach.

                                                        U­P into the vacuum I screech.
                                                   Up
                                             up
Internal pressures build
This panic is meaningless, soon, existence will be obsolete.

I'll bunker down in a fortress of distraction, and pull the blanket over my head.
I'll make a mansion of books, where fantasy filled delusions pacify my dread.
I'll cling to Lifes' bared teeth as I'm shaken side to side.
In time, time will release its predatory grip, let me live this life of mine.

Late night thoughts start to creep,
Words, phrases, lines are very deep,
Do you have to visit every night?
Do I still have to listen or begin to fight?

'When will it be my turn?'
It hit me hard, I may never return,
My world starts to crumble,
My heart begins to tumble.

Do you have to visit every night?
You're making everything so tight,
Late night thoughts start to creep,
Please let me sleep.

Hold on! Let me try to explain...these feelings, the mash of feelings brewing and disturbing my soul...
I can see it in my mind, as if I have been backed into a corner with no escape. No escape makes me feel panicked; claustrophobic. When you feel trapped with no way out, you start to fight. So now I am saying whatever it is I think I need to say to talk myself out of this corner. Begging, lying, and then fighting words. I will bring you down so that I may jump over your back and run, run so far. Instincts are beginning to overrun my mind, like a lack of oxygen causes difficulty to think, I'm nearly 100% fight or flight, with one option removed. I don't want to run from you, from us...I don't want to fight, either, but I fear that should I try to remain visually indifferent, that will result and far more chaos then I will cause when I stop biting my tongue from within my corner.

I tell you I need space. It fell from my mouth without me having thought it. That lack of oxygen as a fresh panic attack rolls in stops me from keeping calm and collected. Now voices are raised and arms are flailing in an attempt to visually explain how distressed we each are, we look like crazy italians. The battle is short before you decide to let me have my space, if that is so what I wish. And so you are gone. However, my feelings remain the exact same. There is no calm, no peace, or anything short of a need to run, or fight. I still feel backed into a corner.

I sat for quite some time reflecting on that, only to realize that I myself have backed me into a corner and made myself feel all these things, and tried to blame the one person who could save me from myself.