The Swarm

Worries take control of my vulnerable mind, like mosquitoes colonizing my brain. The swarm feeds on logical thoughts, fulfilling their monstrous pleasures. The parasites bite and suck until they've made my conscience their home. My body is under their command.

Panic like poison is pumped through my veins and my breaths come short and sharp so that it feels as if I'm choking while drowning in tears that sting my eyes on a head that aches and I grip my arms as I scream inside for the swarm to leave, but No. Still they steal my certainties.

I let them consume me as I lie there, like a wounded child, in foetal position. I lie in a familiar, disconnected self.

Even when they've flown away, I know the swarm will return. They always do. Worries take control of my vulnerable mind.

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We acknowledge the past, present and emerging traditional owners of the land on which we live and work, the Wadjuk people of the Noongar nation and acknowledge that sovereignty was never ceded.

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