It’s been three weeks since I wrote this…
The thing with my anxiety is that I forget how long it goes on for. So I keep thinking, I will deal with the issue, it’s only been a few days…and next thing I know, a month has gone by and I’m still reeling.
A lot is changing in my life, in terms of the beliefs and attitudes I have towards certain things. I’m still gathering my thoughts about it all, I guess I’ll reveal all soon.
If anxiety is a door that locks me within myself, right now I’m titillating in the openingclosing doorway, and this poem was written while looking through the keyhole.
Laughter from behind the locked door
I am locked
I am not hungry
I am not aroused
I am not tired
I am not excited
I am not crying
A terrible sense of dissatisfaction
But not hatred.
Roused to anger, sometimes.
Roused to giggles, laughter, relieved guffaws of YES! I can still feel!
I can still feel.
But then it lingers.
Frustrating acid in the back of the mouth.
Waiting for what?
For what, Marty?
For who which prince on what horse?
The prince is gay, the horse has mange and you couldn’t ride a horse if you fucking tried to.
All you can really do is sit back and laugh,
If the Universe is going to laugh at you, you may as well join in.