It’ll get better

The stream refused to stand still.

it chipped at the roots of trees, and the toes of little adventurers.

I find myself choking from lack of air

Pure oxygen won’t do, without hydrogen hysteria is only a matter of time.

In hindsight I’ve forgotten the feel of the earth underneath my foot

like a hamster running in circles, chasing fool’s gold. Bewitched by the sun.

And I know I have to breath, grapple at the element with both nostrils

because it’ll make me better, It’ll feels less nauseating. I’ll survive a while longer.

They say it’ll get better,

but when?

The stream longs to stand still

to hear the working nocturnal beavers

still to the rustling withered leaves

But today, currents are high.

the anxiety will explode from the base of my ribcage

the strictures at the back of my throat won’t disappear

Now I’m at loss for words

my heart is overflowing but my glass is empty

somehow dark emotions pour out of my chakras

Currents are sky rocketing

and sky is painting all shades of crimson

But

I’d like to stand still

to hold back the worries, that’s gnawing and spitting at my ankle

I’d like to hold back the fusty dam from over-flooding.

They say it’ll get better, I’m tired of asking when.