The Influence of Anxiety
i walk about the melancholy streets. the
raindrops caught between the concrete
sidewalk slabs catch my eyes but
not my mind. chapter one:
the memories fade to black like at the
end of movies. i used to walk about
the campus streets and watch
the mountains flutter down around
me, watch the spring unfold
around me. the constant
aroma of wet soil enveloped
me, reassured me, but i turned
around, came back, and now
almost regret
it. chapter two:
a million pages scattered on my desk
tell of what’s been done and what is
waiting. i stir the milk and sugar
slowly. like prufrock i have measured
out my life with coffee spoons and noticed
a hundred indecisions, a hundred
visions and revisions. perching on my
chair in your room, we talk for hours and
it leaves me feeling scattered and
ill-placed like white lilacs strewn
across the floor. but perhaps it’s just
our talks, my thoughts
influencing
me. the
cyclical, cynical thoughts in my
mind always lead me back to your broken
promises and superficial love. chapter
three: i try to turn around and find another way but
you are always there, a scowl on
your face and a stubbornness because
you can’t admit that it’s all
your fault. i’ve tried to blame
myself but it always comes back to
you. i want to lose
myself in here but you’re here
too, so i’ll have to go
hide
somewhere
else. chapter four:
