Rush Hour

Thoughts scream for attention in the ‘rush hour’ of the brain, making the poet panic like an insect trapped under a glass. But his panic and anxiety are assuaged by the promise of freedom of thought.

Like a city infected with rush hour,

your mind teems with congested thoughts.

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They linger in the background, grumbling,

threatening and shouting; suffocating sanity

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as your eyes look towards greener

pastures where freedom lives loose.

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You hold your breath and listen

to the living infection nestled in your brain.

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Your day started out good, but like always

the pollution proved too much, pushing you off

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into the world of suspense. Like an insect trapped

under the glass you panic and hope for

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a chance to flee your trap and finally

be free, but it isn’t the city or the traffic

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that sucks the air out of your breath

but the freedom of your thoughts at your side,

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comforting you in your quiet moments.