Anxiety
Anxious as a tunnel, or ditch, or lost homework.
As a plate of burnt lemon, chewed up.
I have enough brain waves with electricity soundlessly moving.
And they have enough rambling, tumbling, grumbling.
Anxious as a grocery bag filled with,
Endless grapefruit turned into spite,
It’s all flaky and musty,
Like an insect who has dark, groaning eyes.
Anxious as underground.
Who knows what happens in the core?
Never eat old wires from a kind neighbor.
How tasty.
Anxious.
Ate all my insects from my plate and coughed a bit.
Head first as any other day.
You know where anxiety comes from?
The cookies that tasted so good, almost like cookies.
It’s been around for decades.
That old pond and all.
Photo albums with no time to cool down.
You know why I’m anxious?
Ask the electrician.
He knows where all those wires went.
And why my insides flicker.
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