Anxiety

A chain of events
like plastic rings
fragile and explosive
they break
under pressure . . .
a small wayward movement
a drift of the vehicle . . .
inattention
waiting for angels . . .
the mind sleeps
as the eyes glaze over 

Chaos

anxiety lives in the heart

where the churning

of dynamics

shreds the wing

of the butterfly

and caves of solitude

beneath the crumbling

mountain

remain unmoved

but what is cherished

in the face of change

is the power of

control

and who am I

to stand against the tide

to break the wave

to stanch the bleeding of the wind

to drop a fragile egg

    and watch it explode

There is death in

    the flower

as the beserker

      goes astray

black flies on her face

like tears

at the end of the race

no smiles

of joy . . . .

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Must of been bleak that day I wrote this . . . sad mood !