Burnout

A Prose Poem

Photo by Oscar Keys on Unsplash

Heavy eyes. Patience thin as breathing in frigid air. The sound of anxiety. If such things could talk. I’m seated. Although I feel myself falling into the space between life and panic.

Flailing, frantic, to keep from drowning. Fluorescent lights buzz. Drowning. Words that seek only to prescribe. Pills, temporary fixes to ongoing trauma.

Work and life, balancing like a tightrope artist in midair. Fearless, even as I stumble. I’ve misstepped. Fallen into the depths of burnout.