On Anxiety Disorder
I've had a pretty serious problem with anxiety for as long as I remember. Sometimes, when the panic flames up, it feels like I'm going to burst into flames. This poem came out of that feeling. Spontaneous Human Combustion a human body catching fire without an apparent external source of ignition When my first fire flared crimson, doctors diagnosed delirium: a phantom flame that burned harshly but did not mark me, not externally. Dismissed as yet another hysterical teenage girl, hungry for attention. My chaos made them nervous like I was doing it on purpose. So, they stuck the ashes back together with shame and Sellotape, thinking they could squeeze the fire out of me. And I learnt to burn silently. Stomach somersaulting, head clouded with the shock of smoke, I stepped on hot coals so often, I stopped smelling the burnt flesh. It happens when I least expect… the crisp crack of splitting skin. Spitting sparks into lovers’ eyes. Throwing up shadows, as I fight the