Sitting in the room, the silence expanding.
I have feeling to move and it demanding;
Demanding me to do something, anything
maybe everything, and yet I do nothing.
My mind is racing yet nothing sticks.
Everything feels overwhelming and makes me sick.
I’m a magnet for anxiety, everything moves yet is still
I want to do too much but I have no will.
No will to move, progress, nothing at all.
My racing mind, my inevitable fall.
Even with anxiety creeping ever present,
my love for creativity remains reverent.
This is just a vent piece. I have been pretty anxious and unproductive, but hopefully I’ll pull it together again.