Don’t Panic, you say.
Ouch. I skip a beat.
Leaping from my throat, angina wrestles with anxiety, and I thump my chest.
Brows furrowing like angry muskrats in a circle.
My veins run cold, my blood thins.
My teeth are like vicious stones, grinding my breath into obedience.
Don’t say a word.
It isn’t you, it’s me.
No, no, it’s ok, i’ll get it.
I should’ve stayed in the trees.

Honey, get my loin cloth.

We’re moving out of the jungle.

All better now. See the pretty butterflies. Find your power animal.

S L I D E !!!!!

KJ Rath May 2005