Panic at the Stoplight: A poor attempt of a poem about a journey

A red light stops you
and ejects you wildly
from serene monotony
into a rush of anxious alarms that scream,
thrash and bang inside your head.
Frantic visions possess the speed
and power of a freight train
rattling the tracks of your mind.
Vociferous thoughts cackle rants of increasing chaos
then drown in infinite flashes of
exponentially terrifying ideas
that won't wait their turn
to eradicate your neighborly normalcy.
A bomb explodes inside your chest

as bubbling worries inflate,
squeezing the air out of your lungs
and refusing entry to relaxation
from fresh oxygen. Running away
from yourself is impossible, but
preferred to facing the daunting
demons, the shape-shifting foes of jumbled
everyday worries snowballing into life-threatening fears.
It feeds on you not wanting it to feed on you,
growing the more you want it to shrink.
Crack your skull open and rip your chest apart,
relieve the crushing pressure
of scary premonitions likely
to materialize and swallow
your universe.

Close your shutters
to the world. Slowly take in
breaths of cool blue breezes
meant to soothe, not combat.
Exhale all
the red hot insanity
to dissipate into the atmosphere
full of fears and smiles.
A green light lets you go.