8:00 PM – Anxious (Hour 12)

Head tight

from an invisible

vice

with old wood plates

raw with splinters

and a robust

iron screw

gently rusted

thick with frustration

and time

twisting closer

screeching with each grind

rotating with the perverse intention

to reveal

burnt orange brightness

lining its sky

silent screams

bouncing off the edges of the mind

watching rebuffs of

political progress

rewinding time

chest aching

with bubbles of

incomplete emotions

pushing out with

frenetic panic

seeking an

available opening

struggling to get out

risking internal combustion

heavy with burden

of loving through

society’s decline

short hasty breaths

lacking substance

risking dangerous levels

of oxygen depletion with

each panting exhale

shifting focus from

selfish to selflessness

maturing towards

the concept of

contentment

a resignation of time

palms itching and sweating

pale with blood escaping

from the tightness of the grip

grips lost and regained

futile attempts to

pull-in decency,

fairness, and strength

wrapped with

the understanding

that our living contribution

is merely a millimeter of

progress within

the magnitude of

Infinite time.

One thought on “8:00 PM – Anxious (Hour 12)

  1. I really like the way you wrote this. For me, as I read it, your poem just seemed to build up in tension and then the last three lines are gentle. A release of the tension. Nice one

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