if you were to
go by my fight
or flight instinct
it would be fair
to imagine i was
headed into an
ambush where any
misstep would lead
to my slaughter

rather than sitting
in the parking lot
trying to build up
the ability to get
out of the car
to go work on
a broken inserter
the same as everyday

i know it is just
faulty chemistry
causing alarms to
bellow when there is
no true emergency
which does nothing
to motivate my fear
stricken muscles
oversaturated with
lactic anxieties to
do anything but cramp

there is no comfort
in a world covered in
cling wrap smothering
every gasping pore
suffocating random joy
in haze of demented
self inflicted pains