Day One.

A poem about anxiety and adjustment.

Organs [tied in knots]
Eyes [set aflame]
Skin [cracked in flakes]
Hands [racked and roiled]

I can’t

…Think, think, think

The words start to slur

…Whir, whir, whir

Inside my brain

Uneven voice and jarred [awake]

It’s the 8 a.m. curse again

It’s feeling shot, worse again

And missing that chance to 

Fall i
      n
      l i n e

Keep from fal

                      l

                       i

                        n

                          g…

Down off the precipice

Again.

Palms [leaking out]
Blood [pulsing, fighting to escape]
Wrists [shooting up]
Feet [curling and cold]

Sweat and a deep breath

It’s only day one,

I mumble softly

Day two comes too

       then three and four,
               and a couple more

Then hit the door, you’re through

I only must make it

Through the fear

Of day two.