I Fear.  I fear the present, future, and even the past.  I fear it may be too late and I fear it may be too soon to tell.  I fear the known and unknown simultaneously.  I sit here terrified, but my hands do not tremble.  My eyes do not dart from side to side in a paranoid fashion.  I do not need to inspect my surroundings to calm my nerves because that simply won't work.  It's all in my head and I fear it.

My brain sits and analyzes bits and pieces of fears in order to make sense of them.  My lips whisper what the brain finds to an ear and I fear its words.  My ear passes the message along to the other ear. Together, they tell my heart at once.  My heart aches as it relays the message via morse code down to my gut.  My gut grows upset and growls as it tells the heart its mistaken.  The heart tells the ears, the ears tell the brain, but the brain isn't convinced.

First, the brain evaluates that the ears must have misheard.  The ears assure the brain that they didn't.  The brain then thinks the heart must be in denial.  The heart hears of this and pumps its fist down in front of the brain and tells it, it is mistaken.  The brain finally concludes that the gut got the facts all tangled up in itself.  The gut hears of this and digests it for awhile.  After much searching, the gut comes up with the same answer and tells this to the brain.

The brain wonders if this is enough to satisfy the body it operates.  It toys with the idea of bringing down the alert level, but finds itself unable to comply.  The ears listen in as the gut and the heart approach.  The heart gets hot under the collar and thunders in that its just paranoid.  The brain examines this as a possibility briefly, but still is not convinced.  The gut grumbles that the brain just can't stand being wrong.  The brain argues that this isn't the case and would love to be wrong.

The brain decides to ask the lips if they had anything to add to the conversation if they could bare to be separated from one another long enough to speak.  The lower lip retreats into the mouth for a moment as it does when they're nervous and unsure.  Once inside, the teeth pull a small bit of skin off of them and it comes back out.  The tongue protrudes out with them and wets them both.  The lips smack together once and fall silent.  The brain remembers how helpless they can be under these situations and leaves them be.

The brain decides that it cannot help the body sleep any sounder tonight.  Maybe tomorrow more information would pour in.  It ponders, as it sits up in its tower, if the gut was right after all.  The gut settles back down in its basement and knows its right because it can feel it as it always does.  The brain makes mistakes, but the gut does not.  The heart slows as it rests in its cage and burns for a final answer that it cannot make on its own.  Its cursed with too much emotional involvement in the matter and must stay out of it.

The ears fall silent.  The lips remain speechless.  The eyes look onward and grow wet.  The brain fears the outcome.  The heart fears the outcome.  The gut fears the outcome.   I fear.