i can feel the changes coming

as the pressure builds up

inside my chest, deep in my soul.


i rage against the inevitable,

a racing writhing that leaves me

confused and frantic,

desperate to escape.


misery grows as i acquiesce.


walking in footsteps not my own causes

pain and damage,

strips me bare,

leaves me angry.


resentment builds.

I can’t identify the source.

corporeal needs frustrate.


all i want is to be left alone

to wallow and revel in the dark confusion,

the sad bleakness that is so familiar.

By Em

I like writing. Words help me unpack my thoughts so things can start to make sense. Once I have both myself and the universe figured out, I plan to take up macrame. "Writing is an exploration. You start from nothing, and learn as you go." E. L. Doctorow

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