The Pulse of Execution

Face stained with confusion.

Comprehension becomes routine.

Being overwhelmed provides comfort.

Moments of silence instil worry as

rest feels unnatural.

Undescribably dystopian.

Why can’t 

you take a break?

I exist on my fingertips swiftly jabbing each key.

I exist in the crease of my hand forming a tight knot,

my pencil tightly gripped.

I exist brooding at red markings of my mistakes.

My existence is tension filled.

I am where there 

is no room to breathe.

Fuelling me in an enclosed room 

as water begins to fill.

What keeps me going- is going. 

Why can’t 

you just slow down?

Why? 

The anticipation of reward. 

Fulfillment as I finish.

Lingering in the loafing of my being.

I yearn for it. 

Relishing the moment of attainment.

Where I belong

is all where it leads up to.

The burden, the pressure, the work load.

To the comfort, the ease, the gratification.

That is where I will be. 

I am owned by my will to commit,

possessed by the longing of completion.

Attached to my grit.

I belong to the process, the sacrifice,

and the eventual tranquility of my culmination.