With More Feeling

They urge me, “say it with more feeling!”

As if it isn’t my very feelings that are the culprit for this stoic numbness

As if it isn’t my very feelings that I’m drowning in

It is not a lack of feeling I suffer from, but an existential surplus

***

They follow me everywhere, they never sleep

They are boundless and profuse, they are dark and deep

And it’s not as though they can be turned away

Even my prayers don’t lead them astray.

***

There’s no “do not disturb sign” I can put on the door

They move me from the bed, to the bathroom, to the floor

No matter how much I beg, “no more!!!”

They are the footsteps in the attic, the knock at the door

***

I’ve been long searching for the yellow brick road in my mind

But these feelings block my path and make me blind

Blind to the world, the light, the kind

Of happiness that I could probably get behind

***

They take up all the space

Strip the colour from my face

All that is good and lovely, my mind will suddenly erase

And I become a ghost of the woman you once knew, eating dinner at your place

***

I wouldn’t mind the feelings so much if they took on a different form

But sadness is the norm

And when they come, they rage like a violent storm

So I seek shelter, scared and forlorn

***

I try to make an effort, I try to go out

Try new foods, make new friends, distract from all this self doubt

Because there’s only so long you can survive in a drought

Before you forget what life is really even about

***

I knew something was wrong when I looked at the sunrise and could only dread the sunset

Everything is doomed, everything is a threat

Someone, please hand me in a cigarette

If I have nothing to give, what will I get?

***

I’m tired of feeling victimized by my own existence

And hoarded by all this “be happy” persistence

Believe me, I’d love to take some distance

But it’s me versus me here: the ultimate resistance

***

So next time you think I’m too quiet and urge me, “say it with more feeling!”

Know that I’m staring at my own personal glass ceiling

And if I feel anymore then what with I’m already dealing

You might hear a crack, a shatter, then suddenly I’m reeling

***

But maybe that’s what I need to do…

Let it all become me so I can rise to the ceiling and punch right through

Unleash it and then start anew

But if in fact I do, and you don’t like the way it sounds, will it still be me and you?