The Panic

It's nine A.M..

You're awake,

but you don't leave your bed

because you have so much to do,

and you're not ready

for the panic to know that you're up.

It is now ten thirty A.M..

You leave your bed

only to fall back,

because your head started to spin 

and you are still not ready

for the panic to find you. 

Its eleven fifteen A.M..

You get out of bed

and head down the stairs.

You sit down and get to work.

The panic sits at your side,

you feel and sharp chill pierce your body. 

It has you.

Its noon.

Your mind begins to wander

because it can not handle 

the panic poking, 

and picking at it.

You think of sweet warm thoughts 

to protect you

from the harsh chill 

of the panic's grip on your soul.

It is twelve forty five P.M..

The panic is back.

Not because of the work,

your mind went to colder thoughts,

of him,

or maybe it's the secret,

or maybe its the worries,

but it doesn't matter

because the panic is still there.

Its one P.M.. 

You didn't finish the work 

but you go up stairs anyway, 

to hide from the panic.

Under your covers

where it's safe.

It's ten P.M..

You open your eyes.

You look around.

It's safe.

You feel for your pen,

you grab your paper

and you write.

You have found sanctuary. 

Its three A.M.. 

You lost track of time.

The panic has found you.

It hisses at you.

It wants you to sleep,

so you can

start the cycle all over again.

It's nine A.M....