Now, I thought

Now,

I thought

I’d tell my husband that I was going to walk out into that  main road

Wait

for a car to run me over.

I’m sure he would have expressed concern and said I should have invested in an organ donor

Card!

That he is with his wry sense of humour.

 

 Now, I thought, we’re  on the train & nothing feels real

Except maybe his hand on my knee reassures all I  need to feel.

 

The sun’s out & sparring with my panic attacks & phobia

I have to leave ya for a better time.

 

We’ll have time to play this theme out over & over.

Just for now I’m feeling fresh

Air

Not like I’m drowning in a cashmere claustrophobic coma.

Write to recover. Write yourself out of a panic attack. BUY a book. Look both ways before crossing the road so you don’t get mistaken for  Avante Garde road kill.

Posted on 2019-06-20, in Experimental Writing updates, power poets and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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