What is Safety

I'm so anxious I can't

tell if I'm choking on 

the story in my head

or if my stomach has

decided to pass 

along its nausea to 

my heart.

chronic anxiety.

episodic depression.

these words are 
meaningless to me.
they're emptier than 
the drugs I take for
relief, stretch longer 
than the distance 
between people's 
words and their
actions, spin faster
than narcissists retell 
their stories to suit
themselves.

to have future vision
is to be mentally 
unwell, is to name the
beast before we may 
be ready to face it, is
to be in such 
proximity to silence
you practice the art
of not assigning
meaning or hope, 
alike. 

I'm so anxious I can't
tell the difference 
between a blessing 
and a curse, because
either violate my
consent in a world
filled with sharp
edges that cross my
soft boundaries while
demanding unending
vulnerability.