when i had the panic attack in the shower i felt like i had a little alien in my stomach who was slippery and six inches tall with giant freak eyes and long skinny fingers, and he was too heavy for this gravity but jumping, jumping up and down in my stomach looking for the spot that responds like a trampoline so he could dive upwards through my throat-fingers first with his knobby little elbows together-and pry me opened from the back of my throat, and spit poison out of my mouth like in a bad horror movie; except instead of aliens it was stress about michael and money and loneliness and longing and two jobs and exhaustion.
if anyone out there is willing to illustrate this, i would proudly slap the artwork here, as well as on my own website. email graphics to liz [at] threesadtigers.com
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