Ever feel it, raw and deep,
a need that pulls, won’t let you sleep?
A voice that lingers, aches, persists,
a hidden truth clenched in your fists?

And did you try to push it down,
to mute that cry, to drown it out?
Yet there it blazes, fierce and bright,
a spark that begs to see the light.

This woman is messing with my mental health. She makes me so anxious that my stomach is in knots. She is very aggressive and rude. Lady I am trying to help you. Perfectionism is encouraged but unrealistic. We all have flaws and I am doing my best. You were amazing to me at one point but now all I see is what an attitude problem you have. I see all your BS .

seethe ~ bubble up as a result of being boiled,

<>
sunrise was 714 am in nyc
this perfect fall day,
chilled to perfection,
a white wine of a day,
so imbibe,
only later does it
heat up up and onwards
to the temp where the
walkers/joggers/runner recite
hallelujahs and hosannas while
moving at their own chosen pace,
in a state of warm southern comfort,
never a racing

lest
the poems
now seething, boiling-burning
bubbling up inside
into the atmosphere explode!

all of these
early warming~warning inspirations,
now~expressed,
realized flickers of
original ex-impressions,
cannot be contained in
an open field unsupported,
these
breech babies each,
in a pediatric ICU,
demanding an
instantaneous airy concoction
to Earth’s atmospheric
literary intoxication

they use:
up hard, a dice roll,
who lives
who wilts,
that docs cannot but
obey
the fetus’s insistence,
many instructions,
push pull breathe,
must the. be given forthwith
through to our
servile waiting
uterine fingertips,
for we human are just be
~ings,
nurturers of
verbal artifacts
that never die

in
an~always~at~the~ready,
in service to
the great conceptual,

poetic in/justice