I put my feelings in a box
I scatter them across the page

I order them and categorize
Like I used to order stationary
Or split the peas from the carrots
Right before consuming

I try to defrag my brain
Stack the boxes all nice and tidy

But with the filling of each box
Is the finding of more feelings
Littered across the ground
Or, like dust, floating

Hidden cracks and corners:
My mind is a maze
Of feeling, thought, unexplored opinion
Unscrambling is eternal.

You know I keep it caged,
Deep inside me.
I always did so well,
At keeping it quiet.
Nobody ever had to know,
About this monstrosity,
Right beneath the surface.

I keep my face straight.
Not a smile or a cry.
I'm constantly reminded,
To keep it well inside.
I always did so well too,
Till the night I lost control.

The monster from inside,
My own Pandora's box.
The monster's not inside,
Will never sleep again.
This monster on the inside,
Called emotion.

I am not here to fit into your box
To pretend that everything that I fit perfectly into the corners of your life
I am not her to fit into your cookie cutter
Although I am sweet
I am bitter like the taste of a lemon peel
I refuse to let everything that doesn't fit into your box go
Because its not what you wanted
I am not here to fit into your box
Nor am I here to fit into your cookie cutter
I can only fit into the body that I was given
As a gift from the powers that be
I can only hold you close with the hands that I have been given
forgiving them when they don't work in the exact manner that I want them to.
I can only listen to your heart beat with the ears that I have
Although they don't always work they are mine
My hips are a little wider
My shoulders a little weaker
But remember I am not here to fit into your box
I am here to help you break out of yours.

I think we all know of a person who has left us;
a friend's friend, a best friend, a relative three countries away, a neighbour two houses down.
These are the people who opened Pandora's Box
and watched Hope take flight
in their black and white world,
bleached colors running away
into the last sunset they'll ever see
in our Hopeless world.

i'm stuck in this ******* clear box with nothing but my conscious mind and my lifeless body and all i can do is watch everyone around me move on with their lives. this anxiety has left me stagnant  for the past two years and i'm not strong enough to physically push it out of the way. they all say to follow my dreams, do what i want. but they're only contradicting themselves by not allowing me to venture out. how the **** am i supposed to get out of this box when it's locked from the outside and i'm the only one who has the key?

one time i woke up alone
and it was cold-
                          -er than ice
the air
held its breath
and my own
suffocated
          as it escaped
          frozen lips

s i l e n t

i woke up with
the inside of my head
and the outside of my heart
        s
           p
        i
           l
              l
           i
         n
          g
                         out
onto the hard cot and
it was like
                          i was screaming

silent w h i t e screams
in my misery

alone.

but then someone came
with a warm blanket
     wrapped it around me
     gave me a warm mug of
     tea
and also

a black
box

so i threw everything away
and the box was
          heavy, but i
             haven't seen it since

       i wrapped myself tighter
       under the blankets
   retreated back
with my
steaming tea
and i couldn't see anyone
      but

i could feel
       His gentle stroke on my cheek
                        as i breathed
                 softly
           back
       to
sleep

to live for tomorrow is to
live within your small rectangular box
and to cry about the smaller things
even when the box
shows you glimpses of bad things
and the rotators and coolers
grow tired and beg for death

and breathing for another day
is the action you treat dearly
with tomorrows oxygen in your body
and the worries of belt straps
and bad shoes
and overturned glasses
running through your blood like
the rage of a toddler
whose toy has been stolen

and you will move through the day
and see the little things
but without wonder
and the big with agitated disgust
and the prices and movement and sounds
will unnerve you like
the sitting box does when it
throws dead skin at you
under the cover of warmth
and the comfort of silence

and if that box is a home
and the world is alive
then you will be alone
and earth and wind will not bend to you
nor will the songs of those
who cry outside of the structure
who wail for a cause greater than
the man who ate the last donut
or the dictionary being the only book
in the hotel

and now love
now life
now the joy and tears that yield to nothing
and the chemicals that move us to places
we can never describe
they can wait for you
because your light bulbs haven't come yet
and if they had they wouldn't be turned on anyway