From the Vault - April 2007

This present anxiety,

Like nails on a chalkboard.
The screeching sound,
A terrible product of friction.
Nervous habits,
Nervous laughter.
Laughing
When logic screams solemn.

This gnawing anxiety,

Shaking all over.
Unsure of what to do,
Unsure of what to say.
Thoughts
Flowing like water,
Into a bottomless chasm.
Rubbing away,
Creating a schism.
This throbbing anxiety,
Blacking out thoughts.
Scared to reply,
Scared to ignore.
This wicked anxiety,
Consuming it's prey.