"Frustration"

A gray mist engulfs me   
            Substance without form   
                        Not there—but there   
I inhale bitterness   
and its parasitic nature   
            Infiltrates me   
                        My lungs pull it inward   
                        as I gasp for breath   
                        trying to exhale its pungent mold   
                        trying to breathe as it weighs me down     
                                                presses against me       
                                                            from inside   
                                    Invading my body   
                                    freezing my logic   
                                                pulling me into panic   
            because I can change nothing   
                        It        
            has no form—   
                        nothing to hold onto   
                                    or push away   
A gray mist   

Copyright 1995 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman