Tag / panic attack

by Chris Chant

Fight, Flight or Freeze

Sometimes panic sets in and you feel yourself sinking in the moment. Before surrendering fight to escape the feeling, don’t get trapped, accept the thoughts, watch them float by and proceed…

Take Flight

I wish I could stop the panic
rendering us frozen,
A shadow cast whole on the outside,
on the inside broken,
A deep pit feeling of relinquishing control – don’t,
It’s an illusion of our creation
convincing the soul to submit to the empty
and collapse,
In this moment flee,
for I know and see,
If the focus diminishes
and the grasp of horns
clutches at the chest
causing the body to surrender
then the fear has won,
Don’t let it, breathe in the pain
and run

by Chris Chant

Bring me back to life

Bring me back to life

I wish I could control the horror
produced to provoke,
Trespassing behind the eyes
for the perfect time
to set chaos to the mind,
It could be beautiful,
but it chooses storm over paradise,
pale skin over veins of ice,
supporting an upside down version of freedom,
Life threaded through a knot,
a bind that can only be loosened
by floating hands,
Who wisely massage and weave,
releasing a view of the present,
of untainted truth,
the soul can finally…believe

by Chris Chant

Panic (Part two)

It’s dark
Imagination becomes a foe.
All of a sudden I crack – Snap,
Then lost in the commotion
the mind gets dense
unable to travel mentally
and my eyes are vice like shut.
Reached the pinnacle of panic
If I died now so be it – False statement
I know this can’t kill me
It just makes me stronger.
This anxiety is a passing shot
a warning with no substance
that used to never end
or that’s how it felt.
As a scene in a film
the mind zooms back to focus
back to the beginning.
Open my eyes, slowly
I’m in reality now, real time
knelt to the floor but alive.
Nod appreciation to the helpers.
The episodes are shortening
as I’m learning
to cope with the bad days.
I remind myself
I bring on the fear
I can take it away.

by Chris Chant

Panic (Part one)

The chattering begins
Hands scratch at the noises – scrape, scraping
that brings itchiness and irritants
to this controlled invasion.
A mind built of glass
cracked at the foundations.
Lucid thoughts shatter houses.
The Scattering shards produce a prickly sensation
Trespassing in the brain
leaving jagged edges
and haunted images.
I can see the ghosts of shame
walking the corridors
accusing the past.
My silent screams scare no-one.
Walls closing in
evaporating my screams
suffocating my dreams.
I surrender to the torment
lying back on protruded thorns
that pay homage to the sacrifice.
Breath diminished, colludes with the flames
causing an energy collapse
which leaves the mind broken
to a body unclaimed.