Anxiety is Sticky

Note: I’m normally not a fan of/don’t post ‘journal entry,’ angst on a page poems, but what poet doesn’t write that kind. This one felt a little more creative than normal. Like and comment below! What is anxiety like to you?

Anxiety is sticky.

My student spread glue

on his hands and spent

and hour peeling it

off and he was done.

 

Anxiety is sticky.

The coke got spilled

by a drunk hand

In an angry swipe

We could have cleaned

but we didn’t and now

you shirt makes a noise

when you step across it.

 

Anxiety is sticky.

I put my hands

on the table and found

melted ice cream.

Nothing put it there,

No one meant this,

I washed and washed,

but my hands stuck.

 

Anxiety is sticky.

A link to a more lighthearted poem to balance out the angst.

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