Twisting. Burning. Stabbing.
My guts are mangled and bleeding.
They fester. And secrete poison.
My veins are not longer pure.

I choke. I sputter. I can't breathe.

Paralyzed. Tight. Tense. Terrified.
I can't move my muscles.
My palms are sweaty ice cubes.
My legs overstretched rubberbands.

I shiver. Sandpaper tongue. I can't swallow.

It grips my arms. It traps my legs.
It holds me down. And I let it.
I'm stuck in these devil's chains.
Anxiety is my master.

© LaKeisha Hart

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