anxiety

I wake up to the sound of drums each morning,
the pounding of my heart.

Each day...

Running and dodging the debris, the shit thrown
from the rafters, the booing from the crowd.

Till I wander alone, discouraged
put off by the teeny tiny word
that sums up my existence.

I look away because I'm embarrassed,
Medicate because I'm diseased.

I try to cook, because I'm so hungry
then settle in front of a plate full of charred defeat.