anxiety

I don't think they know (I trust them not to know)
I don't tell them, and I sure don't tell her.
I work hard to keep myself bound together, finger
page after page and I raise my cover against the rain
and I book before I crack up and break,
shatter and shake, rattle and quake no. wait
like the ground that embarrasses fate
let tears roll over and off, bourgeois water and gauche,
a socialist who knows only labor and cost.
standing shattered and blurry
on the corner of decision and hurry
on the corner of chaos and Division
on the corner of heartburn and excision.
The truth is that I've clammed up and quieted
the truth, that I'm violent and riotous
stupid and useless, rage to rule by ruthless
putrid abusive putative measures
I'm sure I hide inside my sweater
where I can't see or feel them. I worry
what I snort between my ignorant visions
in indecisive derision
at the pleasantries that escape inhibition
is like a dog biting a handful of provisions
I'm guaranteed to worsen by worrying my social position