Scratches

As we put our ties on,

All we want to do is tear our skin off.

We use the mirror to put on a face everyone will love,

While we hide the true animal...beast...demon.

Sitting in traffic going to a place to take orders,

While our minds pound to run naked and free and fast, screaming.

Spending every ounce of energy to keep our hearts beating slow and quiet,

Because hearing it beat heavy in our ears reminds us that we've denied being alive.

We call 'them' animals yet we want their freedom, their limit...less...ness.

We impose and conform; cuffs, belts, ties, lipstick, ponytails, etiquette; elbows off the table, cross your legs...making every attempt to drown the banshee screams bubbling, swelling to come out.

We deny the essence, the energy, the true center of the very thing given to us that makes us unstoppable and we cover it up. 

But...it scratches, gnaws, snarling and biting like a wolf scratching at a trap-door to run free outside in the sun.  To run, to sweat, breathe, feel its heart pounding in its chest, hear it in its ears, love, hate, bite, fuck.

Fix your collar.