Those who wait
watch the vole
with heavy shopping
stumbling hands.
I can’t fight my mind.
I can’t find my card
to pay for the colours
and textures stuffed in a bag.
The hawks behind
step forward
heavy claws which pierce
the supermarket polished ground.
I came alone,
to shop alone,
to pack alone and leave
alone.
My hands are now full
with all of these eyes
and false words
falling from my tongue.
I’m finally done.
I finally leave
for the bag to split.
For me to suffocate,
fold up like water
as eyes, hands
and lies come
to my aid
because I’m crying
over spilt milk
and choking
on a thank you.
I found old CBT diagrams I drew to cope with anxiety attacks.
I decided to turn them into poetry instead of painful memories.
_____________________________
Kristiana Reed juggles writing and teaching English; in both vocations she endeavours to remind people of their self worth and how dazzlingly beautiful the world can be.
You can read more of Kristiana’s writing at My Screaming Twenties
Reblogged this on My Screaming Twenties.
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Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
Kristiana Reed brings an anxious vision to Blood Into Ink
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Thank you for the reblog 😊
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Well done
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Thank you
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Reblogged this on The Militant Negro™.
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Reblogged this on Kindra M. Austin and commented:
Kristiana on Blood Into Ink.
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Thank you Kindra ❤️
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You’re so welcome! ❤
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Sending cyber Hugs
How I know…….
Sheldon
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incredible piece of writing.. and horrific journey. My kind of poem.
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Thank you. The road isn’t always easy to travel
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