Weird Poetry

It’s the middle of the night

And I am more awake than the moon.

My current state of malaise

Makes it feel like the gnarled tree branches

In the dark wood outside my window

Are all pointed at me.

And the gurgling little brook at the cul de sac

Is threatening to drown me

From the inside out,

And starting merely with its sound.

I am wide the fuck awake

Because I am afraid

I will stop breathing

In my sleep.

But I am also afraid to stop breathing

In my wakefulness.

So awake

Or asleep,

And even when I have to run outside

For the third time

To gulp in as much cold air as I can

And not have the ceiling hanging over my head

For just one moment,

I’m afraid of drowning.




Anxiety. When I get nasal congestion, I have panic attacks now. Even if the nasal congestion is imaginary and my airways are completely clear, I still panic and think I’m going to drown. Wtf. 🙄


Weird Poetry

I am afraid of first days.

I am afraid of the unknown.

I am afraid of taking charge.

I am afraid of gaining weight.

I am afraid of grey hair growing out of my head.

I am afraid of this world going to shit.

I am afraid for my offspring’s future.

I am afraid of being late.

I am afraid of being pressed for time.

I am afraid of running out of time.

I am afraid of missing out.

I am afraid of people.

I am afraid of violence.

I am afraid of speaking my mind.

I am afraid of confrontation.

I am afraid of falling out of favour.

I am afraid of failing to please.

I am afraid of the staffroom.

I am afraid of most social situations.

I am afraid of junebugs.

I am afraid of driving.

I am afraid of letting go.

I am afraid of losing myself.

I am afraid of losing people I love.

I am afraid of intense pleasure.

I am afraid of being exposed.

I am afraid of not being seen.

I am afraid of being myself.

I am afraid of more things but it appears I am pressed for time.

I am tired of being afraid of so much bullshit. Fuck, it’s exhausting.

I’ll be fine. Just having a moment…. Oddly, taking my clothes off helps with the anxiety.


Moments Before Monday


There are just a few moments to go

Before Monday is here.

Fucking Monday,

With its newness, loudness, and soul-crushing hustle.

With its plethora of anxieties staring me down from every angle.

I feel like a feather in a hurricane on Mondays.

I wish it were still Sunday so I can cocoon myself and continue hermiting from the world.


Monday is here.

Fuck Monday.

But I am going to win today.

And so will you.