In a dark corner—
sitting on a chair—
is where I shiver.
Just the simplest of tasks
implode my internal gears.
My blood is a frigid coolant
in my squirming muscles.
Leaving that corner
to descend steep stairs
pits my brain against my stomach.
The world is black outside of my cave.
The terror of walking—
simply walking to a door—
is enough to make my soul
want to vomit out of my mouth.
So I gnash my chattering teeth together
to hinder its flight.
I feel my eyes dropping backwards
into my skull and then down my throat.
My heart stops its vocation
and my body shrivels as it's freeze dried.
Soon, however, the feeling is gone
and I'm back to logical reason again—
back to flesh and blood.
But the fear remains.
Anxiety will always come in
without even knocking the door.