Exploring Panic

If troubles were akin to veils, which on their own do not one blind, when multiplied can quickly smother, overwhelming smothered mind. But tearing off these piling veils, is not piled order in reverse. Instead chaotic - scramble, tangle! Multiply their tangled curse. Then sight and breath and sound collide, while screaming darkness suffocates. Distorting light and air - perception! Baffling perceived escapes. A muffled groan, a desperate cry, or catatonic muteness follow. Desperate to gain control, still uncontrolled I wallow. And only when the quiet comes, when heartbeats soften in their stride; can disentangling veils be loosened: Senses lost, revivified. If troubles were akin to veils, then one grand gesture could unbind. But some veils are of fragile weaving, leaving woven wisps behind. So when again the veils start piling - panic follows troubles' creep... And all those bits of veils remaining, add their remnants to the heap. New veils then blanket older threads, thus enhancing the advance, of hopeless swaddled suffocation - panic's suffocating trance. So if my gaze is affixed blankly, and my ears covered with hands... Veils may enshroud my existence, veils and existential strands.