The pressure cooker of the self heats on

the pressure cooker of the self,
unable to release with travel,
not finding itself among old friends,
unable to place itself at family homes,
no distractions, no escape,
the steam builds
and builds and builds,
for the first time ever,
oh and now we must think
perhaps how others feel
at least a little bit, in part,
the loneliness and the abhorrence
of disconnected existence
oh and how they must learn
the ways of the world,
and create connections
as floating barges, not islands
to set themselves
for the wrong haul,
travel across the ocean
together strong.

The pressure cooker of the self
heats on, the pressure's on
and I must find my valve
the dal to my rice,
achar to my dal
and make it all happen.