Thursday, May 31, 2007

Another Day

Stress goes straight to my neck;
muscles seizing,
grasping at themselves, so
each new grip, just
binds them tighter,
heat builds up,
throbbing, and kicking at shoulder joints.

Frustration and pain.
God Damnit, exhale,
Slow breath.

I massage at them
trying to relax the muscles.

My head's held at an angle,
hand massaging rebelious neck muscles,
into submission,
grimace on face,
beard long in front,
balding head cut close,
eyes intense,
marching down the
quiet white halls
of wherever i work.

I look out from my angry
frustrated head;
the world is askew.
I'm looking for some way that
it will change.
A way the future will make it
better, easier to bear,
more tolerable.

I want to have time alone,
to think,
to be at peace for extended periods of the day,
to write,
to study,
to create something
for people like me.

I keep looking,
but the older I get,
the less hopeful
it looks,
that there is anything but
more daily suffering,
not understood
by those who appear to
feel good today.

I can't appear to
feel any way other than i do.
Its a failing of mine,
this involutary honesty.
I often wonder,
how many people
walking, these same white office hallways,
feel the way I do
but never show it,
never let on?

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