Anxiety is a dragon that slumbers beneath my skin, the heat from his breath pricking my neck Some days he is kind, and slithers down my spine, spreads his wings out, covering only my back and shoulders with heavy scales Other days, he burrows into my chest pushing aside my lungs and heart I can’t feel anything, breathe anything in besides his presence He claws at my hands, growls at them through a huff of smoke to stop shaking What he does not know is his tail is twitching, wound around my fingers