When I’m Still

A poem about anxiety and insomnia.


My thoughts rush. My thoughts go flying past. Past by.

Future forward. I step forward. Backwards. Forward. Left. Right. I step.

In the movement. Constant yet on the move. A rushing stream. Cooling and burning. Creating and destroying.

Raging and soothing. On the move, I am. Blind to my direction. Vague silhouettes surround me. Silhouettes in the encompassing color and gray surround me.

I lay. I lie. I tire. I fall. I close my eyes. Waiting and hoping. Praying and rolling. The rushing thoughts igniting. I lay awake. Staring, stirred into movement. By the rushing thoughts.

 

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