just one of those ready-to-scream moments

when there’s nothing left inside but frustration

and anger

except you’re stuck inside there

the open door may as well be barred and force-field guarded

because it’s not the fresh air that keeps you in

it’s those others inside with you

those who whisper sweet pleas as they swallow their peas

and cues

and accuse you of never paying enough attention

to the screaming in your head

that you must get out

away from the pain and the

whining whingeing dreams

of cockroach infested corners and sleeping

bags with sticky zippers that won’t undo

after nights of sweaty striving and distraction

and so you drag yourself up because the sun sucks

and the radio makes you

and there’s never enough coffee to

make the voices stop.

lean on the window

but oh how wide is the world out there