Under Pressure

In the style of ‘O Me! O Life!’ by Walt Whitman



Dear airlessness, that you are so unattainable:
to those clutched within the doldrums of an unvarying pressure.
Of a ghost-like spirit to which the pen depends,
of never ceasing, half-hearted attempts
and legions of almost blind, almost deaf naysayers.
Of a tightness and a hopelessness.
Doses of time dreaming of catharsis,
of midnight rampages and a draining of life’s marrow.
Answer.
Take it, take it all.
Dispose of weariness, the mind is a gracious organ.