Work Text:
Dread spreads in my temporal lobe
It impairs my nerves, giving me the shakes
The stress grows malignant, the more I probe
As I wonder if I’ve got what it takes
Even if I pop a pill, I still won’t be still
And yet the root of it all is paralysis
From a mound of fear that grew into a hill
I wish I could filter this fear out, like dialysis.