Keeping anxiety inside an apothecary jar

I feel like I am falling off every bandwagon I ever jumped on
I can see the carnelian sands of motivation slipping through the gaps between my fingers
while I desperately blink in hope the dissipation will cease
The carpet by my bed seems prickly and harsh
like a broken glass highway and I’ve got no car
and I’ve got no shoes
The doorway is menacing, some great, wide jaws; open
ready for the feast of me
Though every time I step through I do not find myself lurking the bowels of some beast
I am instead in the dim hall of my home but
at the end of the hall is another fearsome creature
ready and waiting to tear my heart from my mind and my neck from my shoulders
Yet I seem to make it to the front door intact
Then the outside world seems crushing and intergalactic
I feel like I am suffocating but when I blink
I open my eyes to my bedroom
where the carpet looks achingly sharp
and the doorway canabalistic

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