Withdrawal Tags Along

I went to heal
I spoke to many about you
Specialists, friends, first-encounters
They all know you exist

From the moment I met you
my heart palpitated
I just felt you
without knowing your name
your symptoms
felt foreign
then familiar
&
NOT.IN.A.GOOD.WAY

Seeing you every day
felt like a burden
like attending an exam without studying
unprepared

I feel you approach
without you approaching
and sometimes,
you catch my breath
and bundle it in a lump in my throat
f&8king with my dreams
and then slipping into reality
I wake up
breathless
choking with fear
sweating…

I am attached
but it wasn’t in love
I AM DAMN ATTACHED
but so distant

The weight bagged itself
under my eyes
the anger and fear
cupped my gut
clasped it
slowly squeezing
the logic out of it
all the way to my throat
the acidic truth
burned my throat

I coughed
the truth-reflux
paired with deep short breaths
I am preparing for an attack
I feel it
and no.it’s.not.the.coffee
it’s just it.
IT.

On a sunny day
I took it out to lunch
phones down
fear and concentration
invited themselves
sweaty hands made an appearance too
the eyes never meet
the distance between
froze the sweetness of summer
the air turned cold
it was an unsettling feeling
empty stomach growls
took over the butterflies
that once fluttered
that once sounded like spring

Is this withdrawal?
the sweat?
the cold?
the irritation?

I felt left
but not alone
a ”confused” feeling
joined the table
no food, no drinks,
completely sober
I looked at the squared table
I gathered my might
for the first time
in a very long time
this “left” feeling
felt “right”
and I bravely said,
“I’m going to excuse myself,
I am busy”.

I didn’t feel
the energy I had compiled over the years
was worth putting on the table..
on.this.table

I withdrew from the setting
the withdrawal feeling
left the table with me
leaving anxiety, self-doubt, insecurity, and confusion,
well,
confused – the way they always left me

“Don’t worry, I’m just gonna
tag along for a little while…”
it said…

“At least you’re clear, when nothing was”
I replied.

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The Library of One Book

There was a library
in the heart of a modern city
sculpted by the hands of time
gargoyles covered with plants
pillars with ropey green plants
twirling from the bottom
to the top
Big wooden doors
straightened by rusty
henges extended from wall to handle


It’s like something extracted from
the big Disney book of stories
surrounded by the concrete jungle
of lifeless towers
grey and iron studded with windows
looking down at the fairytale library

I paced my way
intrigued by the old temple-esque looking place
I took the first step on the nature encrusted stairs
and the plants ruffled with life
it felt like it’s been a while since someone
touched life with life
the leaves swayed towards me
I felt they were forgotten
and danced with movement once
they felt a presence
nature is human too

Once step ahead of the other
I felt levitated
the plants lifted me up
excited to bring me to the door
the green stems covered my soles
my soul felt mystical
lifted
something was mysterious
but I felt it was normal
an escape from the fictional world
of stories and success
on these stairs you’re already a success
you’re already treated like royalty
like the way you were intended to treat yourself
naturally

I got to the door
Big wooden planks aligned
like my to-do list was
firm and organized
clipped together
by good behavior
And the perfect morals
I felt as though
they were trying to intimidate me
like they did,
when I didn’t
accomplish one

However, this time
I just looked at them like a fantasy
a story I read once
but didn’t finish

I opened the doors
breaking my list in half
feeling as if I broke
my own commandments
that never actually worked
letting the light in

After all breaking up
doesn’t mean all darkness
and heartbreak

The creaking noises
summoned the rays of the sun
to align the path towards the center
the dusty particles felt like fairy dust
in-situation the mind does f$%k with us
changing things for what they really are
into what we want them to be
I was basically standing at the entrance
of a sun-lit dusty path
but in my mind’s eye
I was standing on the red carpet
of a royal forgotten castle
with fairy dust floating everywhere
embracing me with
magic

(sigh)

I looked around
the library was empty
wooden shelves with genre signs
a familiar feeling took over
the heart beat in a different way
as if to remind me of the emptiness
it has felt for quite some time now
a silent “reminder” that this
not only seen but felt

My eyes scanned the vicinity
looking for something
but I don’t know what it is
my steps made their way to the corners
of various aisles

To my left I read a  
“romance” sign
leading me down its aisle
but….  
the floor felt like a treadmill
moving in place
I stepped on it
and I felt like I was on repeat
the faster I walked to get to the end
the more it pushed me back
—
reminding me of the time outside
stuck in one place
walking in one place
surrounded by the empty shelves
of romance

So, I stopped walking and the pathways
of that aisle pushed me all the way to the front

I stood up
brushed the fairy dust
off my shoulders
a metaphor
of things that I carried
for no reason
that I gave more importance to
but eventually turned out
to be simply – dust

I saw another sign

above another
“Fiction” with an arrow to the left
“Mystery” with an arrow to the right

the fork in the road
was a pillar tilted
towards the right
because it was broken
as if signaling me to take that way
so I did
the aisle was different
colder than usual
the fairy dust
turned to a mist
thick with vagueness
the shelves are also empty
“Maybe it’s a marketing stunt”
I thought to myself as I slowly
stepped into the unknown
reliving my last 3 years of
being in the “newness and questioning” phase
what’s happening?

Apparently, this is the norm
and questioning “it”
sets you in the mystery genre

“how dare you not know how
a situationship works?”

“how dare you question
how things work today?”

“how dare you question
the digital creator of things?”

“how dare you feel
and talk about your feelings, fearlessly?”

“how dare you say it as it is?”

The mist caught my breath
I couldn’t breathe

I ran out through the
other side
I found myself in a hall
with  
2
staircases
rounded like a crown
leading to
just one book
in a bookless library
basking under the sunset-colored rays of the sun
with the cover facing me

‘Have I been here for that long?”

I squinted to read it
my eyes aged
so I grabbed it

Titled
“It’s About Time”

I opened it to the first page:
“Imagine the moment
you kick-out the old books
Imagine how much space
your mind has to fill
with newness”

Looking down
I twisted to face the library …
suddenly all the shelves
filled with books
golden and new
…

A quill fell into my hand

I turned to chapter 1:
“Once upon a now,……..”

it was ready
to be written  

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Band Aid Mind

It’s been a while since
I’ve written
My rusty neurons
have worn their running
shoes and kick-started
running thoughts
I hear them in my brain
those rusty creaking noises
painfully moving
the idea from one side
to the other  

It’s been a while since
I connected to the heart
my ear pods have been
stuck to a phone replaying
old tunes of old days
with lyrics looping
my memories
of you, of them,
of things that no longer
should linger

It’s been a while
since I thew up
now that words I want say
sit around my neck
choking me with the weight
and fear of what would happen
after

It’s been a while
since poetry meant something
since poetry was inspired
from current events
from feeling
or lack of
from knowing
or lack of  
but suddenly things
have evolved too quickly
a millennial brain didn’t catch up
with “situation- ships” that is
apparently super familiar
to kids these days

It’s been a while
since I felt at home
wherever it may be
since my bed felt the warmth
of company
my own company
since I saw my reflection
for the way it is
away from the evil filter
of dysmorphia
that chews the confidence
and spits it out as insecurities
that happen to be
my every “outfit of the damn day”

It’s been a while since
I removed the dust
from the rose colored glasses
that has accumulated
due to the visual pollution
taking over my eyes
my lives

It’s been a while
since my legs could
hold up a decision
that has crippled it
for year

It’s been a while since
I have sharpened my pencil
to pierce the toxicity
that’s the latest fashion selection
of the season
strutting down
the band aid that’s been
falling apart
trying to keep
things
held
together

It’s about time
since
I cut the anchoring chains
that held me back
from addressing
things for
who they really are
because clearly
someone’s got to do it
for all naked sakes*
of mind