cigarette smoke

poetry

I can’t take the silence

Whether it be sparks burning out in a conversation meant for 2, or the weight of anticipation pushing my face closer to their feet. All while I battle with the mischevious monster which happens to go by the name of Anxiety.

I can’t take the silence. The type, not even cigarette smoke can fill. All we can do is throw meaningless words that will only indent the fading clouds but never the mind.

So I talk and I talk because I’m scared if I stop, my heart may just beat out of my chest-
and on their shoes…

I can’t take the silence, but everyone else can. And the eyes that surround me, they scare. physical symptoms convincing you that their judgment is towering over you. as their shadow grows larger and more ferocious-
As the conversation continues

I can’t take the silence,
but everyone else can.

The works of anxiety before bed

perspective

Sitting in the corners of my mind
The eerie crevices where the sunlight never shines
Its difficult to close my eyes
because before I die
I want to know who’s been watching me every night before I go to sleep
With his torture of silence and sinister shadows passing through the only street lamp that lights the back wall of my room.

Waking up with black bags reminding me of the black shadows
The ones that cut corners of my rationality
Leaps over my sanity
And fights off the comfort of reality

If i open and close my eyes three times
And nothing is there, I’ll be fine
Okay maybe three more times,
One more time and I will fall asleep.
This is crazy, I am crazy
Why can’t I take a breathE

Once the light goes out in my bedroom
So does the one in my mind

What time is it?
Three, the devils hour
I feel myself heating up, perspiration forming
I need to stay awake until four, just in case.
I know it’s just a myth..
But just in case.

I’m aware none of this is true
Aware the tremble in my knees is just my imagination smirking at me
Maybe I need pills
Or another puff

This piece of work, the way you read it and it’s format is the workings of my mind under anxiety. It jumps from solution to conclusion to problem to nonsense to explanation all moulded by my irrationality and fear. The only way to understand, is to experience. There is no order, no silence, no moment of peace, no continuity, no control in my thought process when anxiety hits in the solitude of the night. No matter how physically comfortable I may be, there’s an ache of discomfort pulsing in my mind and in my chest, it gets louder and more powerful the deeper I explore. There is no reading over the above post to correct my punctuation or grammar, just as I would never contemplate and rationalize my thoughts and anxieties. I even had to look behind my computer screen as I wrote this, JUST IN CASE. It is nothing but fear, fear of the unknown, a fear that relies solely on the lack of understanding the questions that stay unanswered. Well that’s personally my interpretation of my own anxieties, but again, I am far from understanding the inner workings of my mind. It is crazy what our minds can convince us of.