Deborah Horton Writing

By Robin McNamara

By Robin McNamara

Like a depressed version of 
Rodan’s Sculpture, the Thinker-

I’m hunched up with an unfolding 
Mind. Out escaped everything. 

Fears, anxiety and phobias, 
All scattered everywhere. 

I almost tripped over my
Arachnophobia in haste to

Escape my coulrophobhia.
It’s no joke really-

That… film, I can’t watch IT.
And that song 99 Red Balloons? 

Definitely can’t listen to that.
I tried to take a walk but-

My Agoraphobia said,
“I’m back bitch.”

So the black dog started 
To whine incessantly,

Inside my head.
And yep, you’ve guessed it-

My phobia: cynophobia did
Not help matters at all.

Now I’ve gone barking mad.