I Feel The Panic
…beneath my skin
I feel the panic beneath my skin
it always starts with a whisper
in the marrow of my bones
a sudden itch that I can’t reach
I am still, but not calm
and I sense the air holding its breath
the prelude to me losing mine
the world is suddenly shrinking
my blood is running cold
and a heavy weight, unseen
is crushing my frantic chest
my heart racing like a hammer
each beat a slammed door
echoing in a vast emptiness
I am breathless, gasping for air
out of control in the moment
my panic creates a crowded room
where the lights flicker on and off
there is no storm, only the storm inside
and so begins the descent into darkness
the detachment from reality
I am running, but never moving
my limbs comply with commands
shouted by an unseen captain
who abandons me in the moment
leaping into the dark waters
without even looking back
faces are melting into shapes
there is constant ringing in my ears
time dilates, a minute, now an hour
and an hour is now an eternity
flailing here in the aftermath
the shadows still circle me
there is no noise in this moment
only the whispers of many ghosts
who comfort me in my torment
and I ponder all of the lives
I might have lived without this
© Ann Bagnall
