My heart skips a beat--

Two, three.

My stomach plummets

Rolling down, low.

Sharp pains in my brain,

Tingling spirals down my spine.

 

Cold beads meet at my temples

As I sit with head in hands

As I mark my running stance

As my pencil flys on paper

As my conscious runs in circles.

 

I watch you run in circles,

Cutting flips and twirls and leaps,

Setting fire where you step,

I feel that fire in my brain

Taking form in waves of pain,

Tingling spirals down my spine.

 

When I can catch my breath again,

Incessant dancing pulsates...ceases...

My pulse’s rhythm eases--

Only slightly--

Enough to be productive

And for that I must thank you:

 

You say that I’m not good enough,

Only prodding me to be better.

You say I have no time,

Which just makes you my pacesetter.

 

I could say so much about you,

How much I hate you,

Want to eliminate you,

But where would I be without you?

 

You are my achilles heel (or achilles tendon).

My destruction or secret weapon?

My vulnerability or my propulsion?

 

I wrote a letter once

To the people who have made me

Who I am today,

But I forgot to write you one,

Which is prob’ly for the best;

You wouldn’t have liked it anyway.

You would have criticized the grammar,

The diction, the structure, the manner:

 

Not profound enough,

Not detailed enough,

Not smart enough,

Not pretty enough,

Not good enough,

Not enough.

 

I am not enough.

 

And that’s why you are here.

You make me better

(But sometimes worse).

And I have learned how to use you

As my secret weapon, my propulsion.

 

My heart skips a beat--

Two, three.

My stomach plummets

(But not quite nauseous).

Sharp pains in my brain,

Tingling spirals down my spine

That carry flame from brain to pencil

As you cut flips and leaps and circles,

Setting fire where you step,

Burning a path for my success.

 

Then it is finished.

 

I can catch my breath again.

My pulse’s rhythm eases...

The fire slowly ceases.

 

 

They say not to push myself so harshly,

Claiming I work myself too fiercely,

But sometimes certain chains make a person feel more free.

And “They” have not seen all that you do,

“They” do not see the success you produce

 

 

My destruction,

My propulsion,

My nemesis,

My mentor,

Anxiety,

I must thank you.