Boxed In

I walk along the stony path,

There’s a line there,

Unobservable, but I know it’s there.

I can sense it’s presence,

Seething through the December air.

Its ensnared me like a grade-school bell,

I am to remain in my desk until I hear those freeing chimes,

“Ding-dong, ding-dong”

I sit in my work meeting,

Sweat gripping my facial hair,

Anxiety whispering charmingly in my ears,

Vibrating my malleus,

Deceiving my incus,

Striking my stapes.

It’ll be my turn to speak soon,

I sigh heavy, I’ve always struggled to articulate my words accordingly,

But I can’t leave.

It’s a terribly tense tango I’m in.

To be enclosed in a box,

Surrounded by broken clocks.

Will I make a mistake?

What if I stutter?

Suppose saliva soars from my jaw?

I’m a detainee within the turns of my brain,

The neurons fire missiles at me,

Myelin Sheaths’ scoop and suffocate me,

I’ve been consumed in a blanket of lard.

I take my position,

Moving my rook to Rd8,

I’m starving for a checkmate.

Their queen sneaks behind,

She’s got me cornered,

The pawns on my right,

The bishop to my left,

I’ve nowhere to go, but accept a salty defeat.

Crunch! Phlegm is stolen away,

It’s my turn.

I look to the door,

I pray to the fire alarm,

I’m boxed in,

There’s nothing else I can do.