Sometimes,
It arrives as a polluted smudge
On the horizon of my mind.
I am able to prepare,
Stay home,
Make excuses,
Maybe eat,
Maybe drink,
Definitely cocoon.
Sometimes,
It hits like a cold wind,
Sneaking beneath a fleecy jacket
And shivering my bones.
I leave the full shopping trolley,
Don’t talk
Don’t look
Don’t stop
Find the car
White knuckle my way home.
My mind can’t find the reason
My body can’t explain the hollow feeling
Noises are louder,
Light is brighter
Conversation is impossible
Solitude is peace… sort of.
A single point of reference
Is sought.
Maybe hours,
Maybe days,
I hide,
I focus,
I sometimes weep.
Until eventually,
Able to appreciate
The view beyond the drawn curtain,
And the warm touch
Of another,
The gentle hum of life
And the absence of fear,
I return to this world.
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Poetry is my aeroplane 
Had trouble posting my reply, here it is: Excellent poem. Captures anxiety–and depression–to a tee.
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Thank you Jackie :). it is not a fun thing for sure. Stay safe
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‘Conversation is impossible
Solitude is peace… sort of.’
Amazing writing and poetry, Andy. That line captures how I feel about anxiety perfectly. It can be hard to get the words out, and at times you have doubts in solitude. Hope you are doing well over there, Andy. Spring and summer is just around the corner. Take care 🙂
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Well written Andy you capture different emotions so well , should have been a poet mate .
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haha! when I grow up i want to be a poet 🙂
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