It feels like –  
Being trapped inside a balloon. 

Here,
Air smells like a hint of cheap rubber,,,
... 

I crack open the passenger window, 
Wind strokes with frustration – 
And the air smells boring. 
And my eyes refuse to register the liveliness of the spring. 

Deep breaths, right now, 
Are interrupted by the red lights, 
Of my tangled, strings of thoughts. 

I hate feeling this way. 
Feeling rushed, 
On a deadline. 

What kind of work ethic, 
And life attitude,  
Are implied by the etymology.