Repeat. [A Spoken Word]

This was written well over a year ago, but it still rings true. The emotion is definitely there. 
This was written for the purpose of being a spoken word poem, but without a working microphone, the quality does not come out too well, and yet I'm loath to wait any longer to post something that I think is beautiful..To me. So, here it is, a little taste of me.

I feel trapped. All the time now. All the time. I feel trapped in my skin, like it's crawling and I gotta rip it rip it, dammit, before it tightens too hard like a snake feeding, and I'm the mouse and I can't breath and my eyes are bulging and holy shit stop the crawling.

I feel trapped and helpless in the car. In the car where I can't breath and it's too hot and it's too cold and I have no control over where I'm going because I'm not steering. Riding passenger is comforting and nice and relaxing but now the music is too loud and the lights too bright and the temperature too wrong and dammit I grow restless and let me out let me out but the house is too far.

And you want to open the door and holy shit, feel the rush. The tearing wind in your face, grabbing your hair and slashing at your clothes and the fucking jump as you leap from the car and skid into the ground. That moment of free fall where seconds are minutes, hours, and then you crash and you [i]feel[/i] and you're exhilarated. In terrible pain from the road slicing off your crawling skin, but you're feeling and you're flying and time suddenly has meaning.

To feel so helpless and out of control. How ironic, to be in control for the first time in your life and feel so helpless. So trapped. So FUCKING trapped.

To be helpless and confused and at the mercy of so many other people. So many people who control your life in ways you never thought. In trivial ways that are so big. And to wonder and tense and you just want to SNAP. You bark at people to be in control of SOMETHING, to feel like all those people who control your life. To know maybe you can control someone else's life, too. That maybe your life has that much meaning to them, too. Yes. Yes. Yes.

To fucking feel.

To not be numb.

To not follow a routine.

To lash out.

Lash out.

Lash the fuck out.

And no one gets you like they used to. And you know you are changing. You know you are the one changing.

And you breath.

Inhale.

Exhale.

And you do it all again.

Tormented by your thoughts, and you do it all again.

For that peace of mind.

For the days you make it through, feeling normal and acting normal and passing as just another person on the street going through their life. All the things that matter. Counting on all the things that matter.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

-- Coryn Rose