Sometimes I forget how much permission I already have to live life my own way. I think we all forget.

Anxiety tries to keep me under dark clouds. In the rare moments my head breaches and my sight adjusts to the brilliant rays of truth, I remember that I’m not under a giant microscope showcasing the tiny details of my tiny life.

Isn’t it strange how anxiety makes you feel neon and invisible at the same time? As if your thoughts are made public through projection eyes, but scrambled to static.

I am Neon
Anxiety keeps me lit
but for all the intensity
and lack of density
voltage keeps me static —
kills my composite.

I am Neon
Anxiety strikes my soul
as a ghost in a mask
living’s a futile task
shell in a fishbowl—
stable, no control.

I am Neon
Anxiety is electric
a life-long consort
providing cold comfort
volts are not magnetic —
well, I’m a skeptic.

I am Neon
with blue projection eyes
publicly misconceived
breathe to escape to breathe
circle of lows/highs —
to win: become wise.

follow for periodic weird.

“poetry”

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