Landmine Puddles

1

I’m sitting here

In an anxiety puddle;

I need to pack

one voice pipes up

clean up first, another

one insists.

Just sit here, says

yet another.

You know you'll be

punished

no matter

what you do

2

Sit in a warm

puddle. Not

much you can

do now. Why

not be

comfortable?

3

Not much for

battles

if I'm petrified

every time I

am free

4

Nothing is

a friend of mine

Nothing helps

me feel Control

5

If I only remembered

remembered Control

it's just an

illusion

6

I need to be great

I need to be great

is doing nothing

great?

7

Why can't I

see my Future?

Why can't I

latch onto those

puppet strings?

Yank those

dissolving limbs.

Do my bidding

8

Nettles nettles

festers in

an empty space

Nothing

has drawn

a line

9

often times

I wonder

if the

present

I was given

was just

a body

suit. There's

no bones

and muscles

coiled

there. Only

rope

10

energy has fled

my body and mind

I now only

have ticks

for scratching

paralysis into

paper

11

dreams are

rock dust

not great

foundations

to build on

12

dust flees my

grasp

resisting my

efforts to turn

it into stone

13

the solution

is dried up.

A sticky residue

that gums up

my fingers

14

my thoughts are

straying

sheep.

I've given up

trying to

round them up

let alone one

because it

might bite me

and my hands

are already

bleeding

15

knots of anxiety

they are scattered

throughout my

brain

muttering how they

need attention first

but screaming

when I try to help them.

Is it pain?

Or hatred?

16

So I tuck

my hands

into my armpits

I don't dare

touch any

of them.

Instead

I'll sit in the dirt

of this no

man's land;

listen to their

ticking and

muttering

hundreds

surrounding me

but I won't

touch them

because I'm

already bleeding

18

if peace

can only

be made by

sitting here

then why

was I

given legs?

19

is it my

hand yanking

those feet

forward? Or

another

setting the pace

for Nothing?