Black Hole

It's not gravity that's been getting me down.

my thoughts are a force

that hold the totality of who I am

to the cold ground of my anxiety.

My mind is a cage,

trapped inside are demons.

They claw at the walls of my skin,

leaving internal wounds that have yet to be healed.

My mind is a thief of time;

my thoughts play tag,

hide 'n seek,

in the dark corners of my brain.

They chase each other,

gaining momentum.

They move and consume so fast,

swirling and swirling.

The walls of my prison begin to collapse.

folding into nothing,

consumed within itself.

Time slows,

stops altogether.

Anything that was or is,

wasn't or isn't.

Nothing exists

but the black hole named anxiety.