The music did nothing to pacify my shaking hands.
The coffee did not sooth the palpitations of my heart.
The metallic taste of anxiety,
Tentative recognition of an inevitable outcome,
Interminability pooled near the walls of my mouth
And dried lips.

And yet these symptoms of dismembering woe
Always laid prevalent, dormant,
Only resurrected
When I forced my negligent mind to recognize a reality
In play behind brilliant wallpaper.

This could not exist.
This could not exist.