Life is Anxiety

I.

Regrets are here, gnawing and growing, here, on my side, always, hanging like stone skin, dragging. I feel them under my clothes, under my blanket, their cold dead crust unsheddable. They knead my clay, my fallen flesh, made edible.

Worries are there, always, looming dark and infinite like the integers, queuing to destroy me. Worries, the backlog, the crashing tide always coming in, they stain residue on my side.

II.

Worries and regrets,
stuffing up time.
They touch where I stand.

To face or forget
these worries and regrets
is always easier said.

Stuffing up time,
they touch where I stand.
They join hands around my head.

Today I hold the mirror,
I face it and forget.
Today I clear my debt to the dead.