Panic

The table whines under the weight of my palms, 
as the half eaten discards stare back singing wrongs.
My gaze travels up to the dark window, 
a single pale bright star shining.
The bone shivering cold pierces my soul.
It drains beneath my eyes still pining.
Limbs surrender, vexed and perplexing- 
Heart cries,
already begun to race.
Loose legs tremble to bear weight.
Confusion and clouded vision:
Hands lose 
grip 
of 
fate.
Running in a fog,
tripping over each admission
in a log,
of guilt riddled submission.
Transition:
Safety brings calm clarity.
Eye of the storm.
Temporary compassion. 
Until we meet again. 

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