a.x.'s poem, 'disquietude', is centered around a ceaseless feeling of "unease" and the endless cycle of confusion and doubt that it brings. The feeling of the world being "blurred" by the weight of her emotions and the way her mind criticises her expression of them.


unease hangs on to the strikingly still air whispering into my throat not again, not now i try to stand, i am laid bare

foolish and ambitious, say some but for a little while i can breathe after the pale light filters through soft tears, that crave momentum

fearful, maybe, or perhaps unnerved when the fog enfolds my shoulders and does not fade the world is blurred, the lines are curved.

and there it is, it overwhelms me the feeling that quietly drowns and as i sink into the fluttering waves 'give up, give up - now run and flee.'

stop, please stop, please stop. the beginning bleeds into the end let me out, hear my voice 'let's start once more from the top.'


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