~indications of perturbation. . . For anyone who doesn't know 'perturbation' is another word for anxiety or mental distress. This is a poem I wrote a long long time ago to the prompt: what does anxiety feel like? but i decided to make my comeback with this (even though I kinda hate the piece) because it's a big mood...really i feel like in my bones everyday.
The bruise in his spleen becoming a paper-wasp nest His tears have cried, his blood has bled Rotten vultures on his meat have fed His hair is shabby, his tongue diseased His teeth frail to cut through breeze He lays like that in the old droughty plain The weight of his 'I' his greatest bane He is the poetic spirit in me Every thought birthed from the womb of his mind Poisoned, impaled, shot, hanged, or quarantined But the foolish lynchers have decided To immolate his thoughts He's waiting for their backs to turn after They set the first one ablaze, Fire will flare, it will smoulder, but won't annihilate For his thoughts are made from what Phoenixes are made of Fire was never destined to send them to grave. He will stagger, whimper, quiver, tremble, limp, snap, slip Disbalanced by air, on a blink would he trip But he gives his word of honor; he will be Christ In the chamber of Muses, there will be a heist He will ransack Olympus if thus be needed He is the prince of poesy, not a mere soul conceited.