Fear and Anxiety live in the basement. They complain it’s too expensive to find another headspace, and mine is so comfortable. They added a bathroom and a ping-pong table. I smell Chinese food delivery every time I walk by the door. They say they just hooked up. But they ramble on like the odd couple paired for years, wanting to retire but have too many obligations and friends to pester—or haunt. They’re squatters, refusing to leave my cushy digs. Fear and Anxiety need couple counseling. They bicker about who is worse, and who left the toothpaste on top of the toaster, and where to go out for a fright. Earplugs can’t keep me from hearing the screaming, my poor brain is steaming. Sleep left the house for a cruise. Fear complains about the past, Anxiety, the future. I bite my nails. Beg Sleep to rescue me. Sleep, long gone, left me some red wine, bitter chocolate, and espresso. I find Fear’s journals and curl up with Anxiety to read Fear’s secrets. Hair-raising stories of falling out of planes in flight, battling hairy arachnids, running from snakes, facing job interviews. Sleep has a nightmare of losing her way on the freeway, and getting side-ended by a drunk driver. She schedules 10 session with a therapist and sends Fear and Anxiety the bill. Fear and Anxiety move out of my basement before thugs beat them for the money. Thank you, sweet Sleep.
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A fun write! Thanks for being my poetry pal!