Suffocation isn’t always hand on neck,
Squeezing, pressing down,
Blocking off air death.
Suffocation is the man with his tie tightened around his tender neck
Every morning 5 am
He is told he needs to work hard (and overtime) to feed his family
Does he not care about them?
Whittle his soul down to a single strand of consciousness,
Again and again,
Exhausted, stressed
Failing relationships,
Doesn’t speak to parents,
Hasn’t seen wife in 3 weeks
But work, yes bills, more important.
Work till you die,
Profit first everything else second.
Suffocation is the student,
Hand squeezing pen,
Eyes shut,
Failed another test,
She didn’t have time to study,
Deadlines,
Homework,
Projects,
overwhelming,
pushing her down,
tries to scream fails can't breathe,
silent cries for help unnoticed,
passion for learning depleted cold and dark and alone,
anxious, trembling, when will the next test be when will the next failure come when

suffocating dying restricted.
not always hand on neck restricting.
Sometimes, it's the restriction of the mind;restriction of the soul.

I feel constricted
Like the buds of flowers closed at night
The eyes watching me
And trembling at the sight of me
Because I've been worn by the chains
And not the other way around
My soul's been twisted and churned
And ground into a fine powdered sand

The fear is crippling
It consumes
It devours
It leaves me stripped of all I once was
And of all I wanted to be
Until I feel empty inside
A hollow wisp
Of someone I once admired

The doors were shut again.

Inside, Wendy could hear him typing. The click and clack sounds of a typewriter had grown monotonous to her, a never-ending drone, so unlike a human heartbeat.

Jack said, “Wendy, let me explain something to you. Whenever you come in here and interrupt me, you’re breaking my concentration. You’re distracting me. And it will then take time to get back to where I was.”

She placed her hands up on the doors and put her ear to the wood, listening.

Click and clack, click and clack.

Jack said, “When you come in here and you hear me typing, or whether you don’t hear me typing, or whatever the ******* hear me doing; when I’m in here, it means that I am working. That means don’t come in.”

Jack asked, “Now, do you think you can handle that?”

Wendy liked to believe the best sound in the world was the sound of creation. Jack favoured the clatter of typewriter keys. Wendy preferred the sound of laughter.

Wendy wondered, with all this typing going on, if she could still keep her place in his heart.

I am always in solitary confinement:
Just me, in my body, with a vague yet distant
Presence of others

I can't fly without  feathers
So why are you putting me in tethers
I can't swim without fins
And still your sticking in the pins
And pulling off that little dolls limbs
Like right out of the fairytale grimms'

Your vicious as hell with that voodoo doll of twine
You made in my image so it would be mine
I constantly feel the shivers run down my spine

I don't understand why you keep me here entrapped
And leave all of our potential so untapped
Instead you think I must be kidnapped

It's trust that you're so desperately lacking
Wish you would just relize it's not me that's been slacking

Can't even join the
        rat race

Lonely, sitting here
          caged.

In my world people will not have to stop themselves from saying "I love you" to others no matter their gender or relation to me, because if I love them as a person, then I love them none the less.
You see now in days, we as people give no love. It is feared.

Opposite genders feel uncomfortable hugging one another, need to say making any physical contact at all.

Why is showing love so limited and why does it feel like love is not okay?

We as people must pick and choose who we can verbally say "I love you" to.

But I love every one!

Old, young, man, woman, shy, loud, weak, strong, beautiful, ugly.

I love them all!

I love that I am not alone on this world and that I met you.

We are all God's children, so why not act like sisters and brothers.

If I like someone, I LIKE THEM!
Why should I be afraid to show compassion, THIS IS WHAT WE ARE MADE FOR!
We are living creatures who require physical contact, affection and LOVE from both MEN and WOMAN.

Have you ever noticed when you DO hug the opposite ***, it feels so GREAT, so COMFORTING yet so AWKWARD?

When you tell some one I love you, even if they may not be super close it feels good to say yet odd?

That is because we need love as people just like we need food.

Men need love!
They too need to be told they are handsome, they too need to be hugged and comforted when they cry be told everything is okay.
  
&

Women need love!
They too need to be told they are beautiful, feel cared for and comforted when they feel hurt.

We need each other, so why does society put a large wall in comforting one another, having inoccent connections and bonds with people of the opposite *** and race?

So why is showing common love so limited and restricted, why is love not okay?

trying to find the right words,
words that mask or conceal,
my mind immediately flashes to
an aspect of life that little can be revealed.

green leaves, peekaboo rays of light
through the shade of an old oak tree,
such things are familiar,
easily relatable, and bare nothing about me.

i don’t want the world knowing,
what goes on in my head, so
i’ll write about nature
when I’m forced to pick up a pen.

but someday, i want to share myself with someone,
let them know the inner workings of my head.
but right now, i’m not ready,
i share scenes of nature instead.

and i’ll continue to write about the birds hopping along sidewalks
and squirrels dancing among the brush,
until i can open up to others,

do away with my hush.

Lost;          stuck

Free me

   shackles wrapped

   clenched

suffocating

not even near

         but far

drive away

   rearview mirror,

you wash away

  I waved farewell

spinning

                  turning

                  ­               endless

fly and.

                        go.

                              ­ get.

you ask me why
      or how

answerless I remain.

putting the pieces

         together

and          apart

Riddles;

                  I solve,

Let myself know myself

But fearing

  questions’ answer

for knowledge

      Knowing knowledge

Knows no bounds.

Sometimes there are

      tears

but smiling

      floating

mysteries
      solved

slowly

simply

­  unraveled

and still shackled

but breaking

      free

And one day I will be

                                          in the sky,

wings spread

          to sunset:

I’ve found it.