The Art of Anxiety

Anxiety breaths
in fear
and exhales
doubt.
He is married
to the art of
apprehension.

His mind
is a chaotic
disaster
of colliding
ideas,
crossing through
screams that could
drown out
the yelling
of time.

He hides
his eyes
behind his hair
(the kind of hair
that is the product
of the quick clipping
of shaky hands
and kitchen scissors)
and nervously
runs his paintbrush
through the mass
of not so timid colors.

His stress
stains the canvas,
leaving behind
restless splattered
words.

"I wish I could paint the world in beauty."
he whispers,
but his insides
are already speckled
with the dark colors
of suspense
and lost time.