Panic Attack

In the mirror is a mirror of a mirror of a crystal ball holding all of your secrets
your futures your tea-light memories burning into wax into something
other than their use and inside the crystal ball on the left is a black and blue
bench at the train station. On it sits your worries and they wait, tapping toes,
picking out the dirt from their fingernails biting down on hangnails and taking a
bullet train to the city of your mind, and in comes the train and your
worries hop on board and they grab hold of the metal poles
and they shake shake shake.

Mind the gap, please.
Kindly mind the gap.

They enter the tunnels and the tunnel vision concerns you
your inner fears now riding on your traincar, disturbing the balance
they dance they demolish they grin and grind their teeth in the face
of the innocent chemicals reading newspapers to keep themselves
from drifting off and the train is now driving out of control and there
is no more air for your lungs
apprehension

next stop
Amygdala

The eyeballs of the train
now dimming and blurry
terror, terror, terror!

difficulty functioning,
difficulty breathing.

terror, terror, terror!

Mind the gap, please.
Kindly mind the gap.

And the train comes to
a full and complete
stop.

Disappear.
Shut down.


Written in Response to Weekly Writing Challenge: Time for Poetry

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