
Panic Makes Me An Amateur Jockey
A Poem — Panic Disorder
My unwanted “Sun”, making me its beloved “Moon”, to circle my life around it, my life, my solar-system, “the sun” is also a monster, terrorizes me, no-matter day or night.
The subway is my hell, sucks the soul out of my body, gives me a sense of impending doom, and a “mini” “heart-attack”.
I don’t need to mention the broken heart, Of the inability to live a normal life, Of being laughed at, for this “little fear”, Of inability of convincing 'em, it’s not in my head.
They say I’m just a pussy, can’t get my shits together to commute, Who’re they to hear, the ringings in my ear? my heart racing and me becoming an amateur jockey?
Who’re they to see, me trembling and shaking? tingling throughout my body? my body becoming a fountain of the unwanted sweats?
The hot flushes making me sweat like hell, even on a chilly day, it’s sitting on my chest, and choking me, yet it’s invisible.
If you liked my poem, you might want to read others.
Anish Lamichhane is a medical doctor from Germany. He has his interests in medical oncology (cancer medicine), psychiatry (mental health medicine), palliative care and digitalization of health care. He likes to present health stories in a non-traditional way with poetry and health education pieces. Subscribe if you don’t want to miss out a monthly newsletter with new selected stories.
