warzone panic

I've learned that my emotions aren't mine,
they are for affecting other people.
This, I'm sure, has something to do
with why I feel a sense of panic often.

Emotions are for cultural exchange,
but mine are lost within myself.
I receive nothing in return
for nothing given.

My emotions impoverish me.

I live for responsibility
just enough to get by.

I need time to myself to feel
how deeply I am reflective
of nothing.

The machinations of life
are grinding forward
like imperial conquests.

Blood flows out my ears
to the deafening march
of history playing out
in quiet corners of dark
crowded restaurants.

My inner life is imploded
and I am reckoned awake
like a gloomy sentinel
watching over time's hold
ambivolent and gripping.

Panic attacks are holy,
they give me brief moments
which are absolutely mine
because the universe collapses
like a gasping soldier
plunged through the chest.

Yes, sharp piercing gasps
and the ringing shots of war
fading in the distance.

Is this for me?

The shattered silence
deafened itself.