Panic attack

It starts with blurry-eyed-ness,
A gradual whitening of view,
A reeling in the ear canal,
A feeling in the upper chest,
A grip over your barren throat,
A dip under your usual low.
An all-is-lost-or-’bout-to-go.
An all-is-pointless-anyway.
You pinch your thighs,
You punch your palms,
You bite into your lower arms
You hold on to inflicted pain –
Your lifebuoy in the mental storm,
Awaiting waves to rise and roll,
A weight impressed upon your soul.

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