Lightening In A Bottle

Lightening In A Bottle

A Poem by BThomvanWart

The Lightning In a Bottle Factory

Sometimes I feel like my mind is a factory...
Four walls of steel and concrete.
At the center of the cold and darkness,
A large, warming heart beats.
I feel like my facade,
Much like that of a factory,
Expresses nothing but a neutral gray - 
I feel as though I express only neutral emotions.
My mind, on the daily basis, cranks out thought after emotion.
The thoughts get written, metaphorically, onto scrolls and wheels of large parchment.
On the other hand, the emotions are brewed into bottles and sealed for an aging process.
Sometimes, like any factory with normal human workers, bottles get dropped and emotions come out...
But, some days I feel like the emotions that get brewed into bottles are too thick,
The recipe came out wrong.
Instead of manageable increments, it came out in large spurts -
Shattering the fragile bottles.
While an aging process for the emotions are needed, sometimes it doesn't work out...
The things I don't want to feel or express have no other option but to mix and intermingle...
Becoming a raw concoction of poison and glowing empathy. 
Sometimes I feel like my mind is a factory...
And inside of those four walls a warm beating heart resides.
But, there are some days when those four walls aren't enough,
There are times when those four walls become paper thin.
Those bottles of emotions,
like lightning in bottles,
Shift on their respected shelves and shatter -
One. By. One.
Suddenly, that factory is evacuated,
Swallowed up by suffocating waves of undealt with emotions,
And sometimes those waves splash onto spools of parchment - 
Doing damage to those once beautiful and bizarre thoughts.
It's those days -
The days in which the factory vacates all life and management groups,
That are hardest...
Those days turn to wading through drying concrete.
Those days are shackles and ball-gags holding me down and shutting me up.
It's those days that unspeakable thoughts come into my head and impossible words come spilling from my lips...
It's when every bottle in that factory slides off their shelves and the whole place begins to collapse,
Concrete and steel turning to mud and twigs,
My once organized, clearly thought through process of thought becomes nothing but a ruined, disorganized jumble of a factory in my skull. 
It's days like these that make it so my day becomes holed up in my room, my suffocating mind trying to talk to a unresponsive body trying to function without being told what to do. 

© 2017 BThomvanWart



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Reviews

I'm sorry that you had to go through so much; it speaks to me like a melody. It's sentimental and beautiful at once. I've already shelved it in my library; It's that beautiful. (: keep writing. You were born to create master pieces. I believe in you.

Posted 1 Year Ago


BThomvanWart

1 Year Ago

Thank you for your kind review! I'm glad you like my work!
This is like inside-out, only better. There's some epic imagery happening in here and you've done a great job at expressing the turmoil in your "Factory" Great write!

Posted 1 Year Ago


BThomvanWart

1 Year Ago

Now that you point it out, it really is like Inside Out! Haha. Thanks for the feedback!
Poet Face

1 Year Ago

You're welcome, I liked it.
" The emotions are brewed into bottles and sealed for an aging process." This is just genius.

Posted 1 Year Ago


BThomvanWart

1 Year Ago

Whoa, thanks for the high praise, EthanGoode! :) I appreciate that. Thanks for reviewing!

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27 Views
3 Reviews
Rating
Shelved in 1 Library
Added on January 3, 2016
Last Updated on December 14, 2017
Tags: Anxiety, Process, Psychological, Overwhelming

Author

BThomvanWart
BThomvanWart

North Kingstown, RI



About
The work primarily featured here will be poetry. There may be the occasional deviation, but it will be a majority of poems in the prose style. I do try to work on expanding my writing skills by writin.. more..

Writing