Wrap barbed wire around my body
Pull it tightly, watch the blood come out
It'd cause me some discomfort
But nothing stabs my soul
More than my bare emotions

when I was a kid
you woke up on a weekend
and met your friends
at the local park
you spent all day
playing on the swings
or exploring
and went home
when it was dark
just in time for dinner

when I was young
we got home from school
had a sandwich
did some homework
then met our friends
on the street
for some fun
shooting the breeze
poking tounges
at all the boys
oh the joy

when we couldn't
make it outside the yard
you meet your siblings
out back
where the lawn hadn't been mowed
in days and
you worked together
to create an elaborate maze
for our clothes peg people
to navigate
it was so great

Nowadays

We all live in this tiny fishbowl
I check my daughters Facebook
times untold
just to see what she's feeling
because we are 'Friends'
then I text my Son
that dinner is here,
He's only in a room downstairs
he may as well be living
Siberia

They don't need me
while they have their life
Unlimited cable internet
streaming to their Xbox, iPad,
cellphone, laptop, talking to friends
like I never did unless
they were standing in my front yard
propped next to a bike

and as I sit here sipping grapes
from an old chipped teacup

*I grew up

I swear it seems like I can never escape this rut I fall into, always digging a little deeper, slowly losing sight of the light, no ladder to pull myself out, so I sit in this rut, cheeing my nails until they've bled, racing my thoughts until I am dead. I am so sick of feeling high and then low, high then low. I think if death a bit too much, as if today will be my last day, one swift move of the wheel and BAM! I am free, but really I wouldnt be free. I'd be stuck once again in a rut, called my grave.

I wanted to raise the coffin lid
But I never got to see how the city
Treats the ones life defeats
How the skin rots when it’s not
Maintained by being embalmed
But the coffin was locked
And the hour was late
The crowd was gathering
And the service couldn’t wait

No doubt it is our existence, thoughts, feelings that give rise to language. What we fail to notice is that many a time, we experience utter relief, or are thrilled on discovering a word that mirrors how you felt at a certain time, a meaning you relate to. And many a time, the relief also comes from a feeling of ‘normalcy’. ‘Normal’ enough to know that someone, somewhere, felt the same way some time, and the feeling was deemed important, common, sane enough to be granted admission to the dictionary.