To Be Seen

When work stops
The grip takes hold
Tightness pressing
Like a snake
Wrapped through ribs
Winding up
To a tight jaw

We sit with intent
To relax
Yet cannot
Release
The obligation
Or stop the wheels
From spinning

Words spiral
Into patterns of despair
And disappear
Counter clockwise
An oblivion
Of self loathing
And pity

In the world
We seek approval
Longing for exposure
And all at once fearing
That our layers
Will be peeled
And our true selves...

Seen.