It comes in waves, up and down.
First it lingers at the edge, slowly lapping at your feelings.
Then it pulls back.
Just to hit you with a bigger wave than the last time.
Then, just as you think it's receding.
An uncontrollable urge to hurl overcomes you.
But you can't.
You can't breathe.
Can't move.
Losing control of your body.
And your thoughts.
As it spirals down into the (Dark? Empty? Void-like?) abyss of fear.
And I hate it.
I hate it so much.
YOU ARE READING
Abstraction
Non-Fiction[Started on: June 14, 2022] This is an abstraction of real thoughts. My thoughts. Every time I feel harsh worry, dread, or fear, I will write; I will write right here. Those who want to read about another's poetry, go ahead, but I can't promise...
