Entry 34: Anxiety

AccidentalPerfectionistBlog

Seize my breath

Wring my gut

It is a feat to climb from my nest

Each day

Out in the world

We are alone, alone

Who will be with you, when you take your last breath?

Which of your loved ones will be taken before that day?  

How many days will you wake after the heartbreak?

It is too much to know

It is the not knowing that haunts

So I keep moving

Eat chocolate pudding

So I can forget

Complain about rain

While the asteroid gears towards Earth

I pretend to not know

But it is so

It is so

It is

Entry 28: Center

AccidentalPerfectionistBlog

my toes solid on the ground

the vortex thrashing around

me, my stomach feels the uneasy

tickle of the winds sweeping

threatening to yank me

into the spin cycle of dust and trees

and houses, the screeches pierce

through my ears

to my brain, destabilize me

and I get swept

into the vortex

thrashing limbs,

contorted neck,

dust in eyes,

wind-tangled legs,

without success

i grasp in the air,

reaching for the calm

close, it is there

desperate for the

still center

out of reach

of the tornado

grasp again

for the tornado’s

still

center

Week 3: The Debate

AccidentalPerfectionistBlog

Bile churns into nausea, flooding my stomach

I feel untethered and ill, at the idea that

His squinty eyes, and that god awful orange hair

would represent US to the world.

I have seen this sight on my TV before–  vague ideas and a stump speech about plans to save the economy.

Light jabs from him to her, and back again, like jousters.

Dread solidifies like cement in my jaw, waiting, no, praying,

His mask will melt to reveal the horns and red tail of his true self.

I tense my brow, compelling my third eye to curse his confidence and that pouty mouth.

Panic takes hold.  I flee to find a sugary dessert to ease the anxiety.

She jabs at him, saying he will try to get out of paying his share of taxes

“Such a nasty woman”

It bellows from his microphone, as viewers hold their breath to take in what happened.

Nasty.

Nasty?   An incongruent reaction to a policy proposal.

My jaw loosens, and I exhale with relief.

A speck of guilt occupies my conscience, that I have been wanting another human to blunder and ultimately, fail.

But only just a speck.