Hostile

I think I’m going to explode.
I’ve got to get out of here, right now.
The environment is making me claustrophobic. I can’t breathe.
I am so upset I just want to scream.
But I can’t.

I’m trapped in this tiny space.
There is so much me and it’s all crammed in.
I can’t even move.
The anger is going to kill me, boiling over.
I desire so much to get out of this sarcophagus, this tomb, this shell.

To be a locust, oh how I wish I were.
Surrounded by people who don’t care, who don’t even know.
How I feel.
I feel everything and I want out, NOW.
They can’t hear me, stuck inside here.
They don’t know.

It’s hopeless.
Why me? Why am I stuck here? Why now?
I just want to be free.
Free to run, laugh, cry, free to speak, to be.
Again.

I can’t even get these feelings out.
Set them free, forget!
It’s really crowded in here.
I hate crowds.
Let me out!

Nobody knows, no one can hear.
The twilight zone between my ears.

Reviews

[Zak]

I don't think you know, dreamer, how many people feel this, just the same as you. You write as if you're alone. You're not truly by yourself.
This prose seems to come more naturally. You really should think about holding it to the light of some of the great poets and see where you can take it.