On your feet,
straight back,
eyes forward,
focus outwards.
Definitely a normal participant in this conversation.
Inside, the foetus position –
curled inwards,
legs body fists all balled.
Brows ready to take my face
and shoulders pulling forward to consume my knees,
tugging and pulling
dragging inwards and away
forwards and down, upwards and round,
till I will disappear into a winking red light,
compress into a disappearing dot.
An imploding star inside of me
that is me –
This relentless inward pull of gravity
is making me light headed.
I can’t see. I need all my consciousness to keep me upright,
to resist the inward-pulling force.
There’s not much left for my eyes
or my ears.
His mouth is moving. I am nodding, smiling. My back is straight.
Shoulders back,
eyes front,
hands clasped,
(no need to show them shaking)
they will. not. see.
A poem about anxiety and panic
