Pressure

Rage – black in spite –
Builds without insight,

Waiting for the punch
To blast as projection.

We’re still trapped – just
By a different container:

The dogs have no place
To expend their energy

Without me having to
Drive or risk our safety.

Anything I need for help
Is acquired if have money.

Taking time to keep routines
While desperate is f-ing funny.

Where can I purge energy
Without eyeballs observing?

Where can I express angst
Without someone judging?

I’m hurting, but cannot scream
While demons haunt: delighting.

Always losing ground as climb –
With landslides accumulating.