The sun rises, I wake up,
the dread sets in.
The voices swirl, I push them down
deeper, deeper, til they are just a wind
blowing back my hair that everyone tells me
is so beautiful.
See i can shove the anxiety down my throat like the food I can't get in fast enough until they are nothing but empty calories hiding away in each and every cell.
But isn't that the problem with everything that's empty?
If not used it accumulates
slowly, so slowly that you don't notice a difference
Like the frog that boiled up
or the freshman 15
what we shove down doesn't leave
and before we know it everything changed.
Well as they say
what goes down must come up- ok
maybe not but it's close enough- but these thoughts hang around
unpack and pretty soon
they're right at home.
A cranky teenager that loves the night.
You see who I am in the day exists free of the anxiety.
The anxiety's still asleep.
But like clockwork the thoughts get dolled up
and go to town
when the sun comes down
and when they party it's all or nothing
WE RUN THIS TOWN
My visitors have overstayed their welcome.