Panic Attack | Austin Davis
You would never really compare the rhythm of breathing
in through your nose and out through your mouth
to the waves on a beach dying and being born again
unless you’ve felt your eyes drip out your ears
as a few of your fears suck your veins dry,
the hungry way lovers share a milkshake
and another fear rips out the most personal pages
from the old journal under your bed
and forces them down your throat
until your heart feels like a ball of socks
the kids forgot to find
at the bottom of a Macy’s bag on Christmas.