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Anxiety Won the Match.

Fear is just torture,
enduring dying
without the mercy of death.

Here I am
again, fighting just
to breathe.

Can’t stop shaking
for the life of me.

Teeth clenched like a vice.
I can hear them grinding,
squeaking, cracking.

Like sand and blood
in my mouth.

Hot flashes and cold sweats.
White knuckles on the wheel
as I drive through the rain tonight, windshield turned to a fluid,
living blur
of deadly colors and lights.

Pressure inside
to a fever pitch.
Sound the alarms.
All hands on deck.

Hyperawareness
overtakes.
Attention flooded
with red alert.

Be sure
not to hydroplane,
swerve into the other
lane or veer,
go bury yourself in a ditch.

Rain slows,
clouds part, offering
visibility at last.

Calming, shameful:
anxiety won the match.

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