While I'm working today,
While I'm at a desk wasting away,
I've got more and more responsibility,
People complaining, head straining.
The speed I type is making my fingers bleed.
But still that isn't enough and it's killing me.
Can I, am I, could I be worth a raise?
"Not today, sales aren't great,
I hate to say, the big heads only made
A half a mill for what you did today,
Prove your worth, this is not okay."
Okay.

So I wait, time being all I've got,
Until that final hour hits the clock,
I punch the clock, eight hours in,
Back home to eat, home to sleep.
Never sick, never really sleep.
Another pawn they keep
With just enough carrot to never really eat.
Complained about my shoes
Until the corporate world removed my feet.
And that's the land of being free.

While I'm working today,
While I'm wasting away,
I'll fix every problem you create
I'll be smiling with a hand to shake,
Someday I'll be the person
I dream to be awake.

I am graced
with the ability to examine,
to see, to think,
that I am not living.
And when I realize this
I feel punctured,
foolish,
restlessly pensive.
I am cursed with
an anxious tendency.
why why why
I have everything– How could
I be
like
this
if I
have
everything?
I am graced
with the ability to examine,
to grow, to change
And when I realize this
I know I will win.
and this analysis - I promise -
will yield results.

I keep hearing that
in order to exist properly
amongst your peers
you need a strong sense of self.
I think that
the stains on my shirt
melancholic playlist in my ears
grumbling tummy
and agitation with self help websites
might be as good as it gets for my 20's.

and I'm tired of trying to be perfectly healthy all the time.
and I think capacity for constant self awareness is a privilege.

They say the silence is awkward
when it consumes an entire room.
But the thoughts are almost palpable.
I'm surprised no one has noticed sooner.
Thoughts of inequity.
Fear of rejection.
A concious sedation of self loathing and envy.
Faces running on auto pilot
in the few moments before everyone reaches for their phone
to drown out the quiet.
You can hear the girls comparing thighs
and hair
and dresses
because although we know the media is a generous artist
of flaws for the human form
we still worry that they are right about us.
Guys watching every twitch of lips
and fingertips
half of the room wants to scream
while the other half wants to run
but everyone is confused as to why.
Awkward silence is preferable, though,
to deadened conversation.
The ones where we mention the economy
or the war
or the friend that died last week
and no one knows if it was really an accidental suicide.
Where we paint a picture of bleak servitude
and lament our meager lots
So we stay quiet
except for the dinging of phones
until its time to go home
so that we can study for school
and get a degree that we think we have to have.
If only someone would question
just how much pieces of paper
dictate our lives
Money
Degrees
Concert tickets.
But no.
We all just linger
in the Awkward Silence.

when shall i learn that a line must be drawn
for the sake of my sanity
how can i accept my own demise due to my service of others?
i must wash my hands clean of the guilt i possess
for i harm no one as greatly as myself

i swim in oceans of my misery and drown in pools of my sorrow
terror fills my lungs and breaks away at the tissue in them

¨careful!¨ i scream
i cannot allow myself to fall victim to my own mind
the racing and pumping of my thoughts breaking down the barriers i have built
there is nothing left to protect my self-esteem
no armed guards to stop the negativity in its tracks
no brick wall to block the sadness from reaching me

dangerous. is the only world i can use to describe my thoughts
a battlefield of mines bursting with anger
sticks of dynamite, disguised as flowers to lure and destroy
the question is, who are they meant to hurt?

are they meant to agitate me further to turn my back on myself?
refusing the possibility that happiness can be found?
or are they meant to bring pain to others?
to keep me in control of the opinions and decisions of my peers?
does she aim to help or control?

perhaps, my mind is losing track of what i was thinking
allowing me room to doubt myself
is my mind trying to convince me that i am the parasite in the lives of others,
feeding off of their souls
i believe she is right
to tell me that i do things in order to gain
she tells me, that i do not wish to help, only to hurt

i understand now that i am up against myself
left up to my own devices
no one is under obligation to assist me in battling my demons
i will struggle and fight, until my last breath
to let my own mind defeat me, is to allow defeat inside of my own fortress

i will never be unarmed again