Why do you constantly grip me at the throat?

Always fuckin’ up my good-vibes mode.

You clutch my airway so tight, I’m at your will.

Does watching me squirm give you a thrill?

My heart beats so fast, almost outta my chest.

I struggle to maintain the last bit of air I have left.

You bring me to my knees, I’m begging you to spare me.

And just when I think you will, you squeeze more life outta me.

I inhale what air I can when you begin to tire out,

I don’t know how many more rounds are left in this bout.

I feel my limbs begin to go numb and become useless,

For some reason your brute strength makes me envious.

The pain in my chest becomes like a well-lit fire,

In the terms of fucking panic you are the finest supplier.

With each attempt to regain my control, you strike.

I’m gonna need a doctor to assist me in this goddamn fight.

I manage to choke down the pill, an assist, my salvation.

But every attack counts as a win for you, another annihilation.

2 thoughts on “In the Red Corner: Anxiety

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