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Panic Attack
You leave the safety
of your front gate
and enter into fear.
The early morning quiet
magnifies your every movement
into a noise - footsteps,
breath, the sound
of arms scraping
against a coat.
You don't want
to be heard.
There is nothing
to hold onto
in this ocean of streets,
houses and motorcars.
The world is bottomless
and beneath your feet
there is terror.
You are now
too far out.
You try and hold
your breath
as you begin
to feel the panic grip.
The mind thrashes
in a pointless effort
to surface but you
are too deep.
A scream gets stuck
in your throat.
Somehow you survive,
get washed up
feeling wrung out
and alone
on the shores
of yourself.
Beached between
guilt and shame,
you hide
in that familiar place
you keep coming back to,
time and time again.
Copyright ©
Paul Willason
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