Go to bed

My insomniac nights

are the reason, I think,

that I started hearing voices

in my door's creak. 

I open the fridge 

then hear the low moan

taunting me, asking me 

if I feel alone. 

Just like my shadow, 

I’m followed to work.

I open the cash register to hear the bell;

because I think it's telling me to go to Hell. 

At the end of the day, 

the vacuum screams. 

It sounds as though it's mumbling, 

“in your dreams.”

Finally finished, 

I turn my key in the lock

but, alas, I still feel stuck, because

back at home,

the tea pot viciously squeals. 

The advice I receive is

“come on get real.”

Finally, I drag myself up the stairs,

despite feeling so very scared. 

Eyes wide open.

Sink into my bed.

Suddenly, I get that familiar sense of dread. 

The door creaks open,

I tense up, of course,

and I listen carefully to my remorse. 

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

If this isn't an anxiety disorder, then there never was one.

[May Fosnes]

I wrote this about 6 years ago and decided to finally publish it. I was definitely struggling with severe anxiety. I guess that's well reflected in this piece...