Anxiety
by John F Destalo
Friday, November 30, 2001
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Rush Rush Rush…
To the finish
to completion
this second
that last minute took an hour
that hour a day.
…the present is too long.
You speak and
your words become noise,
a foreign language,
a faucet leaking,
a clock ticking
…when will you ever stop?
I am immobile
externally
frozen; a melting icicle
waiting to fall.
…when will it end?
I am constant motion
internally
energized; a shooting star
burning out.
…to where have I come?
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