ANXIETY AT THE HOUSE CAFE

a band of gypsies
comes bursting through the door
like a cold front

as kitchy objects
towering sky high move
whenever i avert my eyes

the coffee is
cheap
and the conversation is
even cheaper
the devil is nowhere to be found
and it worries me

pots bang in the kitchen
voices ring down hallways
there is a nervous honesty to this place
there is a vicious peacefulness
in a dozen whispers floating between
the flowers of mouths
and the honeycombs of ears

my heart is beating like a paint shaker
this place, it rubs my shoulders
and whispers sweet nothings in my ear
it said exactly what i told it to say
but still
my heart is beating like a paint shaker
i am full of concrete and cold medicine
anxiety like a cold ocean
i daydream about
running out the door
to the refuge
of anywhere
but here

i need to be here
i need to be here

i am in this corner then
that corner
like i’m in a boxing match
with my fears
manifesting themselves as
two fists:
innocence and
tranquility

my heart is beating like a paint shaker
my head was twitch and rattle

i knew lots of ways to die
but this was the one
i feared the most

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2012

READ “RECKLESS”

6 thoughts on “ANXIETY AT THE HOUSE CAFE

      • Every so often, I do nothing but read blogs for five hours. Lately I haven’t been able to do that, so it’s a matter of who happens to be in the reader when I happen to check,
        I have catching up to do!

  1. I admire the duality in this piece, the way oxymorons were delivered with a straight face (as I could see it) and how both ends of ideas were explored. Somewhere in that chaos I saw myself and got caught up. Cool effect.

  2. Pingback: CALIFORNIA, STOP SWALLOWING MY FRIENDS | FLASHLIGHT CITY BLUES

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