Poem: Boxes

A poem about executive dysfunction, anxiety, and being overwhelmed. Thumbnail to be added later.

Boxes. Lining the ground. Forming a wall. 
They stack. Maybe, two to three high. 
Their cardboard brown staring me down. 
Waiting, or wondering. But I can’t move. 
My brain is inert, and my anxiety rises. 

What am I doing here? 

Boxes. Spilling onto ground; a new mess. 
They cling. To floor, or really just me. 
Their cardboard brown wearing me down. 
Asking, no, demanding. But I can’t change. 
My mind says nothing, but my heart? 

I feel it beating me up. 

Tired. I lay on the ground, giving up.
Paper texture, resigned in defeat, low sighs. 
Their protests stubborn, but to no avail. 
Quieting, but active, despite my dullness– 
Knowing it, the executive dysfunction. 

But I can’t rest, not now.