iAM Spring Poetry 2020 Zine

i was born with a voice that was once called beautiful. until it was used to say words like Why But Are you sure? what about Me? what About me.

p. 31

attacks of Panic.

can you hear me over this Hurricane?

The wind is howling

So loud my thoughts become whispers;

the murmurs of Ghosts in my consciousness. i breathe, i gasp, i gulp pushed, pulled, possessed; i stand Motionless

i inhale hope

and exhale yearning; i inhale enthusiasm

and exhale doubt;

iAM POETRY 2020

air whips past in all directions. brushing past with the force of a Ricocheted Slap, but i don’t feel it.

all i feel is the pit of my stomach, as it drops 6 feet below. (or maybe 9 or even 12) i can’t see the bottom of the abyss i balance on one two three

Four.