FOMO
it is my great disability
a form –
of muddled anxiety

middle age not end stage
why then,
do i look back
and why do i look over my shoulder

smashed apart,
and pushed together
by rampant ice ages
and geological revolutions

this behaviour can consume
overtake us as we make our way
it can frighten us,
if we do not like what it has to say

feels like –
i am flying
using instruments only
no visual clues