Anxiety’s glaring distractions

I’m trying to talk to you,

anxiety’s on this freeway too,

you are trying to follow your friend’s car

in a town that’s new to only me.

but, then my purse

spills out

every stray stowage

out of my car and I’m trying to drive

and grab my purse floating above my head

Fuck, above my head?!

Chalkboard edges fucking up my peripheral…

there goes the turn.

the car, the friend I’m talking to is making a turn

and I’m in the w r o n g lane,

now where, why, how am I not being chased by death,



my brain

just wants to kill me

and now I’ve missed my turn.



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