Tumult

and what is one to do? with but one life. marching like a machine. yet never becoming one. shouting. bumping. here: my fist. i raise it to the sky and shout obscenities. feel it. punch through. out. and destroy. i’ll make whatever way. until now. finally. pushing in on me. smiling. twitching faces. what should i make of you? darting eyes. and tears. shuffling up against my skin. squeezing the breath from my lungs. and crushing me like an ant. just by your casual movement. just by the space you take up. and the implicit demands you make on mine. nowhere to go. to hide. anymore. addicted to the food which magically appears. passed around for me to take a bite. and what should i do? what can i do? but dream. and speak to the smiling man in my head. as he throws the switch and now my face twitches too. waiting. and marching. and twitching. and i too. now. crushing the quiet ones. the ones with steady eyes. curious to know what they must be dreaming. different. i don’t know them either. yet i push against their skin. but not me. no. i twitch like you. safe that i am. that i know how to twitch: a coward. never suspecting what might be here. behind my too-quickly darting eyes: slow thoughts. contemplation. and burning hate. lurking for the moment. give me my space! it screams. and i twitch some more. hoping and praying. but knowing too much.