Comforts of Fear
You are the murky film that coats my independence.
Baptized in dread. Left matte and damp.
Muscles of freedom stay weak from neglect.
My deep inhale of contentment is halted by apprehension.
I pick the skin around my fingernails until they are raw.
The smoke from my cigarette stings as it infiltrates the open wounds.
My jaw aches from constant clenching, in turn dwindling the stature of my teeth.
You distract me from my life. Fleecing my destiny, one layer at a time.
You run so deep in my veins, slowing the flow, consuming serenity.
Yet I fear a cleansing transfusion.
Comfortable, abundant fear. Oh, familiar anxiety.
I can feel you. I can touch you. I know you are there.