Late to the party

Poem

Anxiety is like the game
which you lose
when you think about the game

we’re all playing it

by any other name
the alert perceptions
of ones-self
are natures preservation
mechanism
but, when the caveman can’t run
it is a prism
where all your insecurities
are reflected back
a prison
in a disco ball

peering through the crack
the party is going on all around
still outside
nowhere to found
can’t climb down

down

down

we go

inside
into a little hole
of isolating thought

ones downed
and, twitching
from the taser
enforcing
the no fun
policy
the law of psychology
that won’t set one free

a life sentence

waking up late
after, little sleep
the man with the paper umbrella
lead his black sheep
hooves, to the cafe
crushed a sleeping pill
over saintly benefaction
eggs benedict
chewed the hay
- bless thou the stomach
and, hope to feel
ones devilled mind
eggnesthetized
stitched to the chair
upholstered
and disguised
he surveyed the yolk
dribbling in feral ribbons
away from the body
of the beast
he’d created

shakes tempered
once shrieking gibbons
now, coffin ready stillness

the black of
breakfast Guinness
glissading forth
over froth
into decanter
beneath table cloth
hair of the dog
to season the broth
of disquiet
deafened, dumbed
and blinded
to satisfaction

the world walks by
in silence
masked, and insensate
voices kiss cheeks
lethal
without violence
the pepper
of airborne droplets
attack
in world of tv static

numb, for the moment
stunned, unconscious
he wondered
what he was ever worried about ...

Oh fuck
- for fuck’s sake -

he just lost the game, again.

© Darius the Mate 21-01-2022


Written for Shay’s Word Garden, Word List # 9.

4 thoughts on “Late to the party

  1. Anxiety, for me, is fear of feeling something…then it becomes fear of feeling anxious about feeling something, and then it can spiral into a panic attack

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Oh, the irony, the self perpetuating fear of something, which wouldn’t be a something, unless you worry about the something, which makes you worry about the something, turning something, into something. Somethings … never change.

      “I am an old man and have known a great many troubles, most of which never happened” to quote, Twain.

      Thank you for your comment.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. “the man with the paper umbrella
    lead his black sheep
    hooves, to the cafe
    crush a sleeping pill
    over saintly benefaction
    eggs benedict
    chewed the hay
    – bless thou the stomach”

    Brilliant lines!! Love this!

    Liked by 2 people

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