Wishful Thinking

I live with a writers anxiety where the words that reside in my head obsess over print.
Anxiety so strong that my thoughts have formed into a narration.
I recite lines in my head ignoring our current conversation.
“Wait, what did you say?”
“Please, can you repeat that?”
Nervous laughter as my only contribution.
Incessantly, harassed by my shaking pen.
To pen something, anything, other than what has already been.
Suggestions like,

“you should write more than in the bounds of love and heartache.”

Responding with,

“I am tired of feeling it too.”

An interruption of crude commentary,

“Is a bleeding heart all that motivates you?”

My mind differs from your own: obsessing over the little mishaps and I am transfixed over the returning memories of others. I suffer from an Anxiety that surfaces when I am alone that causes the air to thin; I then rather sleep than think. 

To whom this may concern my Anxiety values your company. 

-AB

Song of the night – Reborn by Kid Cudi & Kanye West