Sometimes anxiety is vague, it is unexplainable, it comes from nowhere and its cause is subtle. It seems as if some deep thing says: ‘enough of this’ and begins to dream of greener grass. The feeling is at first a distant echo but it grows greater the longer it is ignored. Sometimes a soothing word can calm the rising storm but other times there is something else at work. On these occasions there is a point at which I realise that this visit is from a demon (or perhaps an angel) not a temptation from a cup of tea. This poem is the record of one such visit:

The hollow knocking at my door
When denied claims more and more.
A cancerous growth, in stealth creeping
Maggot-infested, wound pus-seeping.
Dripping void until a vacuum groans
Now unignorable though cause unknown
See an evil in its seed?
Nip it lest it smother thee
And swallowed up by anxiety
The climbing ivy bests the tree

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