2. rattle

feel like every
good moment
i ever have is
a false climax,
and i’ll just fall
right on back to
what made me
wanna write that.
low point incoming,
seventh this year,
i really just have to
wonder where my
act 3 comes in at.

or what if i’m just
flipping the script
and i’m living in a
cycle where act 3
flips right back to
act 2 and it never
gets a resolution?
act 1 decision was
to live out this big,
hellish nightmare,
fits of anxiety will
all pass one day,
but awfully soon,
a day turns two,
two goes fourth,
onto the eighth
and i just want
to stay in bed.

heart pounds as i
write these words,
any second now,
i’m gonna pass out,
no one’s around but
they aren’t far off,
i can’t calm down,
what if i do conk?
how will they react?
will they tell my mom?
what’ll teachers say?

shit, some strangers
just showed up and
are right next to me
while i’m struggling
to calm myself down.
i’m petrified of it all.
feel like i’ll throw up,
i can’t stop shaking,
i don’t even know how
to form words anymore,
i’m just bashing on my
keyboard, typing things
and it’s going to shit,
today was supposed to
be all perfect, how did
any of this happen now?

i keep changing the name
of this fucking poem now,
one minute it’s “screenplay,”
then it’s “attack,” can i just
call it “rattle” or something?
i don’t even know what i’m
saying anymore, just please
make this stop now, i’m not
even trying to rhyme like i
was at first, and my lines are
just getting uneven right now,
how many times have i said
“now” in this damn poem?
i’m in public having an attack
and this is fucking terrifying,
i hate every second of this,

JUST STOP!