Bottled

Mild pressure, easy burning,
Just a little buzz in the back of my mind;
Most days I forget and walk on
because picking at scabs just makes scars
worse.
They're just scars
that burn
with every vibrant reminder
a poker plunged into the depths
of all the missing pieces torn to leave that shiny puckered mark
for everyone to see.

I'm tired
of that shadow coming up to shake my hand
expecting a clean merging of night and day
into some murky medium
that I want to believe
I can float through
with half-closed eyes
a half-beating heart.

I'm worried
when I feel that crackling behind my eyes
that rippling fury I wear closer than skin;

I know
it's as transparent as I try to act;
that everyone can see
I'm two minutes from breaking
three from hard apathy
and if you hear that clock ticking down you better start fucking running.

But no -- instead, let the audience
just smile
and placate
pat my hand and tell me
how hard it must have been
how hard to even imagine
how hard to survive.

They do not understand
                                       who they are fucking with.
They do not understand
                                       the volume of what's so carefully contained
behind hours of babbling
                                         and screaming
                                                                 and masochistic calm under a needle;
the soothing
                      and healing
                                         and holding on
                                                                  to letting go 
                                                                                      just to maintain a rigidly gentle simmer.

But then again, maybe it's me

that still doesn't understand

because I can't turn around

can't look it in the face 

      without feeling 

that gloriously clean and beautiful rage 

                                                            that makes me invincible 

                                                                                                   and terrible 

                                                                                                                      and unstoppable 

                                                            start boiling up 

                                                                                    inside the deepest parts

                                  from all the darkest parts
                                                                                 of me 

all I want is to unleash it and let it burn everything

leave nothing 

to forget

to be mad at

to fight

to make me feel 

                                                                                                    like I'm barely keeping 

                                                                  from baring my teeth

                                containing that growl

        leaving my fists 

                                clenched to my sides 

                                                                 instead of flying through the air 

                                                to connect 

  with anything and everything 

                                                                 I know I can make bleed

because oh, how I want it all to bleed sometimes.

Sometimes, I just need 

my head tucked under your chin

my own little space to breathe

your kiss on my forehead

your nearly silent, "It's ok." against my ear

your swinging hug that makes me squeak 

            and feel 

                         like I'm much, much too tiny 

                                                                      to keep carrying 

                                                                                                this fury around 

                                                                                                                          inside me 

my tiger in a cage 

your silent reminder 

that I don't have to keep proving 

to myself and all the world how oh, so very, very strong I am 

by fighting with 

                         every 

                                  single 

                                           blazing 

                                                      furious 

                                                                  breath I take 

                                            despite the fact that no one

                                     else

                                            really knows what I'm fighting for

your look that tells me it's okay

                                                to let go

                                                             for just one minute, 

                                                to just let it all out 

                                                             in a big messy rush without that frantic control

your quick squeeze of my hand to remind me 

                                                                      that I'm not always the only one fighting for me.

Though it all just smolders

though it's all just heavy

though it's not even close to over

                                                   you never fail 

                                                                         to remind me

                                                     I can do it on my own 

                                                              and I don't need to.