Ding

Ding.Ding.Ding.

Whatever the sound,
the implications are the same

Anxiety bubbles,
sucking the air from the room

I’m hesitant to look,
but there’s truly no escape

I hold my breathe
(is it for me? Does it matter?)

I exhale in relief,
if only temporarily

Thankfully,
this one’s not mine

Yet I still place it on the stack, the ever-growing heap of world ending contexts!

I’d rather place it in the bin,
to discard it forever

But garbage collectors don’t exist here

See, in this place,
only the pain overflows.