Monopoly

Sadly, I don’t have a monopoly on pain.

Even when it expands to the point that I feel it,

drip, drip

from my pores,

no more room.

I try to contain it.

I swallow harder, its roughness scraping my throat – like sharp elbows refusing to relax as I push it down,

to where it belongs – unseen.

It marinades in my intestines.

It simmers when I read

about Trump, ICE, Syria, Racism, home, parents, who I was.

It bubbles, when I see Facebook growing, and

growing,

and growing,

and

Doing Nothing.

Falling in line with the script to refresh,

to like, to post,

scrolling…

scrolling…

Looking for something new.

Things. Ads. I want them.

Empty.

But clean.

I want, I want, I want – to…

Do something.

Teach me how to Do Something –

Change Something,

Be Something –

or Someone

that…

That what?

Holds a monopoly on Sadness?

Let me expand.

Let the sadness dissipate onto me,

filling every crevice and hidden space,

Let me absorb.

Let me gorge.

Swallow hard.

Shove it down,

like an overflowing trashcan.

Let me stomp it with my foot to shove it in,

make it fit.

Crumple it up until it’s light.

 

Help me make it light.

So I may see

a better tomorrow.

So I may see your kindness.

Be kind. Untangle yourself from:

selfishness; and

laziness; and

emotional lack of intelligence.

Be with me, one with me.

See that I suffer as much as you do.

And if you suffer as much as I do…

I understand.

But.

Most of You Don’t.

Most of you have so very many

EXCUSES.

And your vote made me realize that

pain is subjective, and

Sadly, I don’t have a monopoly on pain.