the numbers keep growing
and the aftereffects more known
more dire
more forlorn
and the masks keep coming off
and the faces i see/ones i thought cared like me
for those unlike me/
but apparently
i was wrong
i feel like an island
alone
in a storm…
i feel unfit for human consumption
like my entire being radiates harmful isotopes
like the population would probably be better off
hiding inside
rather than being exposed
to me
but why
do i identify
as a pariah?
i’ve never really been an overt outcast
even as an awkward teen, i had my people.
the worst things that have ever been said to me
have been directly from me
but maybe that’s what makes
a profoundly isolated child/teen/adult
one where even one’s own solitude
is marred by toxicity
and one can never
truly escape
the bully
i know of others
who have survived egregious bullying
by escaping into their own minds
and imaginations
what happens when the mind
is the worst minefield of all?
even though you’re feeling sad
drink the coffee
do the writing
even though everything feels hopeless
drink the coffee
make the plans
even though you’d rather sleep and sleep and sleep
drink the coffee
do the day
little bursts of serotonin
may or may not add up
into an almost livable amount
of serotonin
for one mind
but at least those little bursts of serotonin
will help
for a second
or two
so
even thought it all seems so pointless
drink the coffee
eat the cookie
write the poem
talk with the spouse
play with the puppy
get out of the house
and fake it till you make it:
life edition.
~~~
yikes.
(the feels that made
that poem)
~~~
wanderlust
wanderhome
wander to me
go right now
i am waiting
arms outstretched
to feel you in them
once again
wanderlust
wanderhome
wander towards
never feeling
so alone.
kipventures 