my mind

My mind has white walls
And a single chair in the middle,
It is sometimes vacant,
Nothing existing for a moment,
Then other times,
My thoughts are racing,
My mind is racing,
My breath hitches,
And I cannot form a simple thought without getting a little overwhelmed.
And if those intrusive thoughts came into play,
The chair that's in the middle of the white-walled room would be smashed to pieces,
Nothing but ruminates of what is left of the barely recognizable chair scattered throughout the room.
I wouldn't be able to gather myself together.
I'd spiral out of control.
I'd fall down a hole that I know all too well.
And if that happened,
If it truly and surely happened,
I wouldn't be able to stop it.
My mind is an unpredictable place sometimes, even to myself.

a.b.