To be alone is not so tragic,
to be alone, and yet at peace is magic
but oh to be alone with you
That my love is magic meant for two,
For in this life are many troubles,
we both have more than just a few
but when I see the love that lies behind your eyes
My troubles fade from view
And my world is born anew.

ten minutes to write.

score the music,

melancholic
the repetitive phrase,
but
I refuse it.

instead I bathtub splash
hard soft rockin' roll,
the boon dog now soaking,
quizzes my sanity
what does he know?

Score the life times.

five minutes to write.
trite crumpled,
hook-shot into the trash,
but trite costly,
one minute of a lifetime,
scared, sacred, but scored by
ruts, grooves, ex personas in my life,
the black markers of my insane
pushed under the water,
drowned by music.

One minute to write.

Poem:
a good start to the day,
please pass the soap,
shampooed the trash out of my life,
the rest, now to start.

Anxiety is not
Only sweaty palms and racing thoughts

It's thoughts and thoughts and thoughts and thoughts and thoughts and oh my god I need to stop but I can't because if I do what if my world stops too?

Anxiety is not
Finishing things
Because there are things and things and things and things and
That need to be done and you can't just stop at one.

Anxiety is depression's friend
The friend that springs you out of bed fifteen minutes before your alarm, wrenching you from depression's arms and shattering your sadness.
But upon impact with the floor,
Your feet are cemented down and your goals are just out of reach because god you have the will power and you swear you're trying but why can't you be perfect and perfect and perfect and perfect.

Anxiety is the feeling
That pushes and pushes and pushes and pushes and pushes
Until it pushes you over the cliff
And you land amongst the lives anxiety has claimed that litter the bottom of the canyon that surrounds you and stops you from achieving what you wanted because god forbid you're actually trying.