stifled...

Some days it feels like

there is something inside me

waiting to break out

I feel like the Hulk

as he’s turning green

you know that moment

right before his pants and shirt start to rip

Only it feels like

whatever it is

isn’t so destructive

It’s an unexpressed something

but it doesn’t feel like rage

It feels more like stifled….

stifled…

stifled…

oh, I don’t know

just something stifled

It puts me in mind of that famous painting

you know the one

with the skull faced character

its hands up to the sides of its face

its eyes bulging

its mouth filled

with a silent scream

It kind of feels like this, only not at all... 

but on days like this

I can kind of relate to that character

Everything around me seems normal

normal people

taking normal walks

on a normal bridge

that must lead to Normalville

the sky is a normal sunset orange

the water blue

and yet 

I feel anything but normal

All the armchair psychiatrists would say

"it's anxiety"

but that's because they’d be analyzing the painting

not me

and that's because I can’t seem to put what I feel into words

It's kind of like an unwritten song waiting to be sung

or an untold story waiting to be told

or maybe an unpainted canvas waiting for its artist to arrive

but notes don't come

and picking up a pen or brush

only seems to breed frustration

and I am left to wonder

if others feel this same pent up force

that can’t seem to find an escape?

* The Scream by Edvard Munch