Generalized Anxiety

My brain is choking my mind. I blame myself for feeling
guilty. I judge my inner critic. My thoughts think little
of me. I’m a big kid now. My thoughts think little of me.
I’m a big kid now. Deaf is the blind man painting
the sound of dreams. My tongue is choking my throat.
My soul is a ghost. I think too fast. I can’t stop writing
about the moon. Oops. I did it again. Write about the
sun of God instead. Write about the birds and the bees.
How the captain of my boat pierces my sails and swallows
the breeze. How the brain of my soul is choking my mind.
I’m a big kid now. A big kid now. I think too fast. My ghost
has no soul. I’m too tired to dream. I’m too lazy to make
my poems rhyme. I can’t stop writing about writing about
writing. My brain drains my mind. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.
Everything’s fine. In poems empty space follows the last line.