The pleasant strangeness

of your body, that body --


going its own way.

Some days I wake up in terror
The body would move if only the mind would
Send the signal
Feel safe enough to go on living
Those days I feel a cage in the shape of
My skin
Pushing inwards with so much force
I could become a black hole


Some other days I wake up vivid
Full of life
I can walk, run, lift
Smile
I can answer the phone
I can plan my days ahead
And the only thing getting in my way
Is a pain
In my lower back
That makes it difficult to make things fun
And a confusion
That makes it difficult not to wonder:


"𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦?"

If you ever wish to know who you are,
Look at your company.
See what you will do
When your life falls and you are in agony.

Take a stroll, a place or two
See how your body will hold
The way you act and talk;
Show your disciplined mold.

You don't need to look for progress
Your result will show it.
Your comprehension of hard times,
Tell the mindset you've built.

You thoughts and ideas
Embrace the way you talk,
How you treat others,
Or even the way you walk

And in no time should you need,
An appraiser or critic.
All you need is a mirror and mind,
And an idea to stick.

It’s starting. I feel the taps.
I glance over my shoulder. No one there.
In my mind? “Hey chum, got time to spare?”
Time slipped and left the dreadful gaps.

“Hey chum, care to wake up?”
Reality calls. Eyes on us. “Help me out here?”
“Sorry chum, nothing but void.” A nervous tear.
Get up and pour some coffee in that cup.

Dear mind, we need to talk.
“Cease your violent tapping, leave me be!”
Eerily quiet, but the shadows glee.
Dim lights. Senses rest during a late night walk.

Hopeful dawn. Tell me a story, my friend.
“Look at you, chum! Paying attention!” Rising stress.
His lips move, his words roll. Tap tap. “Mind, please continue to process!”
A fleeting tale, instantly lost. I was there for you, yet absent.  

A mind deep as the universe, yet without gravity.
During daylight, always beckoned by fantasy.
My thoughts fade away, my memory fails. I swear it’s not apathy.
I try not to drift. Please bear with me, for your love is my necessity.

The words you write, you're going blind,
You hide away, leave light behind.
Your world’s gone dull, it lacks a shine,
How much of truth will you define?

You beg for answers from above,
But guilt is not what gods are made of.
You did it all, don’t mask, don’t fake —
Refuse the lie, or let it break.

Be kind, be bold, begin to see,
The mirror’s cracked — the fault is me.
You bury night to chase the time,
But still the sun will rise at nine.

You found the page but lost the pen,
You try to start and stop again.
You call it luck, you hope it shows,
But talent hides where no one knows.

You write, you dream, you paint her face,
But words won’t earn a lover’s grace.
No rhyme can pull her into crime,
No line can cross that sacred line.

Still here you stand, a voice confined,
A life half-lived, a heart resigned.
Inside this shell, thoughts twist and wind —
This is your cursed poet’s mind.