Total Panic Meltdown

Movement slows to a crawl, and my mind cannot crawl at all.

Photo by Lena Rose on Unsplash

A bitter breath
fogs up my lungs
seeping into my pores
like sticky sap
and I am bogged down.

Movement slows
to a crawl,
and my mind cannot
crawl at all.
I am disintegrating,
bit by bit,
the leakage of my soul’s
oldest rip.

The darkness closes over my head
but I cannot sleep,
for I am not yet dead.

And so trudge I do,
through the bog and mire,
the mud sucking at my feet
and my arms
and my soul.
But keep on I shall,
for there is no stopping,
not even for a

total

panic

meltdown.