A Linear Equation

Stifled.

Caught in gooey clear plastic

That never stops being gooey.

Pressing through like a Time Bandit. Press.

Stretch these hindered lengths.

Quiet.

Emotionless scream to wake. 

A raging dream.

Estranged, wandering through crowded tall hallways

Of marble grey miles reaching into the sky.

Hear the cries. Of ignorance.

The laughter of shame.

Looking for a pair of an equal's stare.

I can't breathe in the one passage I need.

Need three tracks. Maybe four.

Wanna see past oblong hoops of smog and blur.

See the thinking of fear. The sinking of Millenium bells.

A remembrance to keep it all here. As I look down between these wobbling sticks.

It's here. Not the stratosphere.

Grasping it until knuckles turn against me to remind me.

It's not that bad.

Author's Note

This is an old poem from the 1990's when I was pounding the pavement in NYC trying to make a living. Modified a bit. Thx again for reading.