Gut clenching
Heart wrenching
Hands shaking
Knees quaking

The feeling of being twisted
wrung out like a soaking wet towel, trying to get
every
last
drop
starts from the middle of my core and spreads out
towards my skin
towards my limbs
like an infectious disease rampaging my body.

Contorting my body into a ball so tight
that my shins bear marks from the iron grips of my fingers
is seemingly the only way to relieve this pressure from within.

Yet,
the only thought running through my semi-conscious mind
while I go through this invisible torture is,
"Why me?"
What sins have I committed in my past lives
which would cause me to endure this kind of pain?

My mind keeps forgetting
how to breathe right
For while others air go
In and out
out and in
In a simple function of normality
Mine falters a lot of the time

Turns my voice into wheezing gasps
The dead could speak better than I
My lungs squish into a tiny box
In the center of my chest
Causing a volcanic eruption of pain

It is a very similar feeling to my heart
Which thumps and clamors
At a speed unknown to humanity
The pace of a jackrabbit heart
whose cotton little tail's on fire
Until it simply feels like it
**pops

When I was 7
I was watching Seinfeld with my dad
I asked him where they were
And he answered
New York
The city seemed so huge

When I was 17
I had my first panic attack
I was always watching *** and the city to calm down
New York
seemed huge
and that made me feel less claustrophobic

When I was 27
I went to
New york
The expectations were high
I was so surprised
when I felt suffocated
Cause it didn't seem huge anymore

What do you do when New York feels small?

fall out boy is always
in season
rain or shine
sweat or tears

i honestly get
tired of having
problems but
doesn't everyone?

i'm escaping
stumbling into some
false reality on the other
side of my mind's eye

sometimes i get to thinking
about alcohol and
cigarettes and i get scared
for who i'll turn into someday

and sometimes
when i can't sleep i play
what a catch donnie
on repeat until i cry

"said i'll be fine
til the hospital or
american embassy"
gets me every time

leaves an actual pain
in my stomach
the ache of something
i want more than anything

to die
or leave
to no longer be
choked

convulsing on the
scratched wooden floor
legs twitching and
forehead sweating

i can't breathe
and it's not just
the humidity
it's the thoughts

it's the scars that are
too new to talk about
and the ones
too old to care about

eyelashes are
scraping irises
hands are
always sticky

how pain
is normalized
and anxiety
just happens.

the song is over
play it again
shuffle and repeat
until sleep

i should have stayed home
i always should stay home
but i don't like
home anymore

i never did like home
and it's mostly because of
who i find there
when i'm all alone.

at three a.m.
your breath should be
rounded
rising and falling
peacefully
calmly

like waves on a
smooth beach
but now everything
has fragmented
pixilated and
deconstructed.

your breath is being
dragged through your
lungs in triangles
half shapes without
softly curved edges or
serenity of form

gasps of air so
sharp they could
slit your own
dry throat
from the
inside.

and tears
so cold you
wonder if they're
shards of glass.

please
the next time
your body
becomes a vandal
against the windowpanes
of your mind

please
oh please
remember that
deteriorating
stained glass
can be taken down
from rose windows
by a master artist
and restored
pane by pane
each inch of leading
one at a time.

but repairing
is a process
and a process
takes time.

a discomfort
radiating
upwards from the
***** of my feet
up my calves and
through the muscles
i try to keep
from twitching.

some nights i could
wash my hands
twenty times
and still feel
sweaty and
hopeless.

i could give up
sometimes
i know where the
blind curves are
and the tallest trees
in the woods
and i know how
much it hurts
behind my spine and
inside my rib cage.

i can't
breathe
i can't
breathe

and maybe giving up
would hurt less than
trying to hold myself
steady and trying

and

and

thoughts keep getting
cut off in the middle

i can't
breathe
i can't
breathe

i've had dark
nights and
slightly lighter
nights and
quiet damp
nights and
buzzing summer
nights and
throbbing multicolored
nights and
nights so deathly silent
i questioned my own sanity

and some nights
where i wanted
to just
give up

nights
nights
all of them were
nights.

i can't
breathe
i can't
breathe

i would run away
from my problems
if there wasn't this
discomfort
in the ***** of my feet
radiating upwards

and also
if i could breathe

*but i
can't
*******
breathe