Poetry

Panic Surging

My peaceful mind
is vacant. Yet,

With each noise
it pulses like a flame.

The heat coming
in waves drowning me.

I need to move. My
need yanked from me.

I jerked my heavy body.
Someone is talking.

Their voice is sandpaper.
My face scrunches.

I twitch. My senses
start to cut off.

Shit. I need to move.
Right now. Move. Now.

I race out. Stop. Breathe.