The Slightest Gesture

This is a poem I wrote nearly a decade ago. It was influenced by the experience of anxiety.

My chest is made of glass that words could shatter
The shards have spread upon your sheets
There's nothing left for you to break
Your words do less than matter

These hands are too shaky to hold my earthquakes
Mouth wired shut so nonsense won't leak
Quietly fidgeting under floods of eyes
Turn signals turn into straight lines

Your putrid sweetness grows raw on my neck
A hissing is born into my ears
A poison paradise of silence
Creation's wave made to wreck

It's the act that has become the art of broken thoughts

It's the act that has become the art of losing control

Author's Note

If you have every experienced anxiety or a panic attack, would you say this poem embodies it to some extent?

If you feel connected to this poem, yet not specifically in the context of anxiety, how did you relate to the poem?

Reviews

[Sami Khalil]

"Your putrid sweetness grows raw on my neck
A hissing is born into my eyes
A poison paradise of silence
Creation's wave made to wreck

It's the act that has become that art of broken thoughts

It's the act that has become the art of losing control"

A good description on anxiety and its effects...:)........................