I’m here.
Where?
Here. Not there.
Stuck in this spot—
Not going anywhere.
“You don’t drink do you?”
Nope.
But I am here.
No place for me—
Evident and clear.
Yet, I am here,
Hands shaking—
Frozen fear...
“Hey, great to see you.”
Who, me?
Thank God—
Strangers
Passing by
Me—here—the fear,
I can’t even feel,
I am numb to tears.
Frigid, frozen,
Tapped out—
Pour me over—
I’m the cork
Popped for
Another’s pleasure.
What drastic,
Drawn out measure,
Must I do,
What course to steer,
For me to get
The hell out of
Here?
© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
First published on tristanrobertlange.com, January 5, 2026.
Tittu
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Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: January 5th, 2026 08:49
- Comment from author about the poem: I’m published in an anthology featuring authors from across the Poconos, PA. All proceeds benefit the Pocono Liars Club — a collective of authors and editors dedicated to supporting and mentoring local writers. Available in paperback and Kindle, please consider purchasing one and supporting a great cause. https://a.co/d/58uxM69
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship, GenXer Shamrocker ☘️, Carlos Alberto BUSTILLOS
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Comments5
A powerful poem speaks from one's heart, been their. Your poem revolves around feelings of isolation, fear, and the struggle for self-identity. The poet expresses a sense of being trapped in an emotional or psychological state, feeling disconnected from others while simultaneously yearning for connection and relief. The subject matter touches on themes of anxiety, the pressure to conform to social expectations, and the feeling of being an outsider in one's own life.
Friendship, this is a thoughtful and generous reading. You saw the anxiety, the outsider feeling, and the quiet desperation to escape without simplifying it. That kind of engagement tells me the poem spoke where it needed to. I’m grateful for that, dearest friend...as I am thankful for you. 🦇🔥✍️🙏
The voice that comes to us once in a while that inner whisper. It is haunting and a bit creepy as if familiar but still needing introduction like a friend walking into ones bathroom as you step out of the shower. The voice itself is the knock at the door. The prelude that you don't drink and then the introduction as the cork. I have felt that way before. There is something more powerful than not being wanted in not being needed. Well written my friend
Soren, this is a powerful engagement. You traced the voice from knock to cork, from unease to erasure, and you named the deeper wound beneath it all. That sense of being present but unnecessary is the pressure point of The Cork.Very much appreciated, my friend. 🦇🔥✍️🙏
Always a pleasure Tristan
Good write T. Put a cork in it, Popeye. Put it where? Don't answer that! lol.
Why thank you, O. As for P, if he put a c in it he'd lose his Qs. What are they? Yup, you guessed it...don't answer that! 🤣
Aah Tristan, on initial reading this was the story of a cork which in the bad old days had blocked my access to the bottle's contents; then I happened upon the heavy duty comments above and realised I was not in the same league......Better luck next time - Happy New Year...!
Dave, this genuinely made me smile. I love that the cork stayed a cork for you at first…that tells me the surface read worked exactly as it should. And no worries about leagues here, my friend. The literal cork did the same for me too at one time! 😝 Happy New Year to you too! 🦇🔥✍️🙏
Great to know I'm still in your good books, Tristan. Happy New Y..... think I may have already told you that somewhere...repetitious old fool!!!
Hahaha! I’ll join the repetition for the fun, it only happens once a year after all…Happy New Year!
Always writing from the heart! Great write my friend
Indeed, as do you, my dear friend! Thank you so much for your time and your encouraging words. Always appreciated! 🪵🫗🖤🙏
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