Can’t breathe
Can’t see
Stumble forward
Gasping for air
Like a moribund in water.
They tell you about the claustrophobia
But they never tell you about the fear
The fear
That the world has been turned upside down.
Which it hasn’t.
You stop
But they keep moving.
Flowers stab
Grass slash
Weeds garrote
You look up but really you are looking down.
“I only run when the pigs are chasing me,” said my father.
P.H. Wilder.