High Anxiety (w/audio)
Posted: March 30th, 2009, 10:01 pm
>> High Anxiety - Click to Listen
He had high anxiety,
tics and twitches and a wide variety
of itches in places he shouldn't have itches,
and at midnight each night, try as he might,
he couldn't cease the paranoia attacks.
Life just wasn't a joy any more and
when delusions set in he couldn't keep track
of all the pills he'd swallowed to cure his ills,
the whiskey he drained to ease the pain,
the balms and salves to quell the rashes,
even inhaled powdered garlic dashes
and many more remedies natural and not
to get rid of the jitters and twitters he got.
He had a feeling the cause
was since life had no pause,
it just kept on going on lickety split.
He couldn't stop the constant bombardment
of info and data and other annoying shit.
And he cursed too, so what? It's true.
It was a reaction, a slip of the tongue.
His ready excuse was he was older than you,
had been around longer, was no longer young,
and the more that he said it, the more he was aware
that he had high anxiety and nobody cared.
In fact not a soul enjoyed being around
when he paced the floor and couldn't sit down.
Attempts to dissuade it were futile at best
and he was truly convinced
it was some kind of test
and worse than that,
he knew he wouldn't pass,
his nerves were extremely on edge and the task
of relaxing was such an overwhelming chore
that he finally decided not to do it any more.
So he drove himself downtown to the local gun store
and bought a rifle, he claimed, to hunt some deer
or other wild game (it wasn't quite clear)
and he signed his name on the dotted line,
just like you would sign yours or I would sign mine
but headed out to the mall instead
to make sure all of the people who had ignored
his high anxiety were quickly shot dead ...
and then afterward turned the gun to his head.
He went hunting indeed ... even took his beagle.
Good thing for him the rifle was legal.
dp.3.30.09
He had high anxiety,
tics and twitches and a wide variety
of itches in places he shouldn't have itches,
and at midnight each night, try as he might,
he couldn't cease the paranoia attacks.
Life just wasn't a joy any more and
when delusions set in he couldn't keep track
of all the pills he'd swallowed to cure his ills,
the whiskey he drained to ease the pain,
the balms and salves to quell the rashes,
even inhaled powdered garlic dashes
and many more remedies natural and not
to get rid of the jitters and twitters he got.
He had a feeling the cause
was since life had no pause,
it just kept on going on lickety split.
He couldn't stop the constant bombardment
of info and data and other annoying shit.
And he cursed too, so what? It's true.
It was a reaction, a slip of the tongue.
His ready excuse was he was older than you,
had been around longer, was no longer young,
and the more that he said it, the more he was aware
that he had high anxiety and nobody cared.
In fact not a soul enjoyed being around
when he paced the floor and couldn't sit down.
Attempts to dissuade it were futile at best
and he was truly convinced
it was some kind of test
and worse than that,
he knew he wouldn't pass,
his nerves were extremely on edge and the task
of relaxing was such an overwhelming chore
that he finally decided not to do it any more.
So he drove himself downtown to the local gun store
and bought a rifle, he claimed, to hunt some deer
or other wild game (it wasn't quite clear)
and he signed his name on the dotted line,
just like you would sign yours or I would sign mine
but headed out to the mall instead
to make sure all of the people who had ignored
his high anxiety were quickly shot dead ...
and then afterward turned the gun to his head.
He went hunting indeed ... even took his beagle.
Good thing for him the rifle was legal.
dp.3.30.09
