Panic Attack
- a Poem
- by Krishna Sawant
Try to breathe in.
Try to breathe out.
His hands are on my sternum.
My mind blacks out the image.
I’m wringing my hands together.
No… I’m pulling my hair.
His breath is on my neck —my ear.
I’m pressing my palms into my eyes
—so hard that I can see stars
I’m not sure oxygen is making it to my lungs.
He’s making animalistic sounds.
He’s thrown my body into shock.
It’s like watching in slow motion.
—wait. no.
It’s another girl.
And another.
And another.
It’s me.
It’s her.
God, I hope it’s not you.
God, I hope it’s not anxiety
Krishna Sawant
from Mumbai, India, is fascinated by the morbid side of the human psyche, and her works reflect the same! She believes in the quote, ‘there is beauty in death’.
