Mistress of Mayhem: Inside the Poem

The inspiration behind this portrait of anxiety personified

Concept image for Mistress of Mayhem, from the Embodied Shadows collection; Image created by Liora Writes utilizing AI

Where should I begin?
Slender, spikey limbs—
shaking, twitching, grasping;
hitching breaths, gasping.

Grinding every gear,
humming in my ears;
black shadows swirling,
darkness unfurling.

In control, she gloats—
lodged lump in my throat;
sweat slicks down my palms,
anything but calm.

Mind steady racing,
outward I’m pacing;
inside I’m frozen,
no choices open.

Pray for it to end,
my mind starts to bend;
wish her far away,
restricted airway.

Outside, no one knows;
they feel the winds blow—
my storm keeps brewing,
my nails I’m chewing.

No help but a pill
to deny her will;
as I drift so deep,
sanity in sleep.

Clear morning sunshine,
clarity to find;
roll out on two wheels—
she’s hard on my heels.

Breathe in and breathe out,
chase away my doubts;
her grasp starts to slip,
movement fouls her grip.

My heart, free at last,
lets go of my past;
mind banishes fear—
holds no power here.

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When the Storm Circles Back

Anxiety has a way of masquerading as control.
It whispers that if you just tighten your grip a little more—stay ahead, plan harder, do better—the chaos will quiet.
But the truth is, sometimes the storm is the grip.

Anxiety is a trickster.
It doesn’t always come screaming; sometimes it shows up wearing responsibility’s face—a quiet whisper saying you can’t stop now.
It mimics diligence, disguises itself as care, and before you realize it, your pulse is the metronome of survival.