Insects Of Anxiety

Last night I couldn't crawl out of my skin fast enough.
The insects of anxiety were racing under the blanket of flesh that hides me from you.
I was trapped inside of my own head, caged in with the inmates that claim these confines.
thoughts of this, thoughts of that, exploded into a kaleidoscope of memories.
I watched you smiling an empty smile as I stood at my two windows, windows that laid underneath the setting of your sun.
A couple times I caught you looking into my eyes, my windows, wondering if I was there.
But I wasn't home.
I was anywhere but home.
I was one millisecond away from a head on collision with a brick wall.
I was one finger squeeze away from feeding myself one final meal.
I was one main tree branch away from hanging all my problems out to dry.
I was anywhere but home.
Because at home in the confines of my own head, where the floor is cold, and dirty, and the walls a dinged shade of white from years of smoke, there is no piece of mind.
Not then, not now, not while the insects of anxiety march on...

by Luke Navarro

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