I Gave Myself A Nickname

A hail of anxiety rests as a mountain of white powder
Etched off the surface of a desolate being
Inflammation brings about reactions
A careful attention paid by those closest in orientation

The debris finds itself dug under the nails of prophecy
Cut and chipped into a shape more familiar
Meant to protect
Its use is turned into a destructive IED for the home of its maker

You clean your nails
Hoping the dirt stays away
But anxiety makes its return in the worst of ways
A blistering river of unclean faucets
Sterilizing the demons that invade you constant

Much like a blessed water
It only holds back for a short minute
The walls always crumble
Allowing a mist of red to coat the mountains of white
Before healing an icy yellow before your next flight

I believe they call it eczema
I call it a familiar foe
Unrelenting in its desires
Unmoving in its enforcement

I believe they call it anxiety
But I’ve only met him today
Though he saw me from miles away

They all knew before I did
Exactly what it was you did
While sitting on the mountain
Congruent to a tonally morbid
Instance of needed assistance

The therapist could’ve told me
But she never knew the real me

I gave me a nickname
One we could all understand

But I gave no plan of intent
To express across the lands
What it was to be this man

Sitting in ignorance
I laugh while you all attempt
To stick to me like glue
Never knowing my name

Something completely free

Something completely me

Simply

Untrustworthy