Worry flows through my body,
a hidden river, underneath a confident skin.
Every movement, change, step leads to an increase of fear.
I am unstable, I wiggle and wobble,
unbalanced on two legs.
My head floats an inch above my neck, too heavy to rest.
Consistent electricity lights my blood, and radiates through my hopeful eyes,
alerting the world to my facade.
I try.
I try to pull the switch, damn the river, and tie myself to the moment.
But I am shocked, knocked out, and thrown to the ground.
A pattern, a habit, a consent to the world that has hurt me and I continue to fall.
Catching myself, I try again, but the world shifts, my body floods and I am no longer grounded.
I am a conductor, fear a train running me flat.
Can I jump?
Can I pull the lever and change the path?
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