Pressure Cooker

Sometimes it’s like there’s just too much To cope with all at once.

Life makes you dizzy;
Drunk
(Bad drunk:
Thirteen-years-old-swigging-cheap-cider-from-the-bottle drunk).

Never enough time.
Tail chasing, tripping, chasing again.
Troubled mind, ill at ease:
Stormy seas.

Stop the merry go round and get off,
Not forever, just for a while.
Freeze frame,
Slow down time.

Anger without reason,
Lack of hinges.
I am a pressure cooker about to go off; my lid rattles from the head of steam building beneath it.

Weighted expectations,
Sinking in the gloom.
All-pervading but nonsensical
Impending sense of doom.

We are happy
And yet we are not.
We have it all
And yet we have nothing at all.

All this. And we are the lucky ones.

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