Agoraphobic.
Lost in a deafening quiet.
I don't want to be here,
in this moment,
in this space.
But it seems it is all I can do
to comfort some pock mark
in the timeline.

Brazen,
Loud,
Outspoken,
Opinionated,
Only when the right moment permits.
Otherwise the tongue bleeds
from repeated bitings.
This latter bit is today.
The former was yesterday.

A yesterday I almost can't recall.

A simple trip to the market
renders me heavy in the chest.
As though I walked into a hive of bees,
dodging their attempts at defense,
the buzzing so loud,
all I can think to do is duck & run.

I see my loves
as though they're all on the other side of the glass.
They see me too,
but voices are muffled.
Light refraction & glare
cut shards across faces.
In my mind I try to compensate for
the bits of them lost to the physics
of light.
It's slow going.
It saps the oxygen from my brain.
I grow weary from this effort.

It's sometimes just easier
to retreat.

The quiet holds no offense.
It doesn't even comfort.
It simply sits to my left and right,
not interfering,
just existing,
allowing me to
polish my armor for
tomorrow's inevitable trip outdoors.