Anxious

Each desire robs this life of breath,

anxious, confused, in the mind uncertain.

Staring at the moment through death,

the hour soon passes, amused and terrified.

I would race through my imagination,

though I feel as though I've died.

Within the sea of competing voices,

my voice is lost and cannot hear my soul.

Of lights and colors and empty noises,

my thoughts are enemies, words confusing.

Take me in pieces or leave me whole,

my pain is tired and slow diffusing.

Look at me, different and the same,

I know some your pain, different as I am.

We are prisoners of an unspoken name,

the monster that is slowly waking up inside.

Judging my soul, the imaginative scam,

anxiety, hell and judgement deride.

Permit our arms soon our embrace,

so brief, so beautiful, yet the proper cure.

Speak my name and consider this face,

revealing all that I become and imperfectly.

I see your intentions simple and pure,

and desire your company fervently.

Brian Francis Hudon

July 1, 2016