Kevin Ribshman

Panic Attack

by Kevin M. Hibshman

It begins with a sour feeling in my gut.

The room begins to spin, vertigo-like and I want to run screaming: “Make it stop!”

There is a buzzing in my ears.

I cannot hear anything but what sounds like a muffled beehive sitting on my shoulder.

Everything becomes warped as my vision begins to blur.

The walls start to tremble as do my hands and I cannot stop shaking them wildly at nothing.

I feel my heart beating impossibly fast.

It takes over from the angry beehive in my ears.

The Dark

by Kevin M. Hibshman

Lately, when I lie down to chase sleep, the dark has become more personal, more intrusive as it presses in on me.

It seems to know more about me than it should.

It has motion.

It swims around and over me.

It has taken on its own personality.

One that seems spiteful.

It almost seems as if it wants to bite me, to pierce my flesh or perhaps, my will?

Kevin M. Hibshman has had poems published in many journals and magazines worldwide.