It’s always going to be you
I fell in love with anxiety
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Why is it hard to breathe, I take my pills, do my yoga- but none of it works
Take a deep breath but I can't- it doesn't go any deeper than this- so I thought.
Take a walk, talk it out but now I'm in my own head.
What should I do now?
You lied. You said if I did all these things, it would be better- guess what, it didn't work.
All I have to say is go fuck yourself. You sit there and have the nerve to tell me about my nerves but you can't even get a handle on yourself.
When you get a handle on yourself then maybe you can come back and we’ll see about talking about me.
About the Creator
Jen Phillips
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More stories from Jen Phillips and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Lesions of Devotion
Every day I set myself down on the freshly cut lawn and strip myself bare. I take my guitar and finger the frets and pick at the strings, listening for dissonance. My life is dissonance. I twist the tuning pegs until each string sounds bright. Then I kneel, calves pointing behind me, kneecaps facing forward. All exposed to the breeze. I close my eyes and play the melody.
By Paul Stewart5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Yes it's like the pot calling the kettle black! Sending you lots of love and hugs ❤️
Impressive...