Tonight's Poet Corner: Stricken

Stricken
by Belinda Roddie

Fear's paralysis almost feels like
pins and needles - insects crawling
up and down your arms, the stabbing
sensation of little legs scratching against
your feeble fibers, eager to erase
all sense of stability from you, as you claw
at the epidermis and sob
when the sores begin to form.

You are sick. You are stricken. And yet
the doctors find nothing wrong with you.
Your head spins, but it's only the world
turning. Your mouth is dry, but only because
your tongue is a natural desert. Your mind
is fading, but only because it is a magician,
and its disappearing act is slow, and you
allegedly have enough time to grab its
cape before it vanishes entirely. Your mind
is fading, and no one else can tell you why.
Why it wants to sabotage you. Why
it wants to be set free.