Watching drips of disappointment build up one by one,
Like watching the puddle of tears on the bathroom floor grow deeper & deeper.
Suddenly, by a newfound default,
The inner-guards stand higher than ever before–
Turning a picket fence into the Berlin Wall.
So suddenly surrounded by instinctual shields,
Shields that are made of glass–
Transparent & sincere, but the inside is untouchable.
Rarely letting anything get close enough to enter the vast & lonely realm of visceral intuition.
A realm that is a special inward palace– crucial for serenity & sanity’s sake.
Those crystalline barriers shining in the sunlight,
Enticing people to come near, yet ultimately dividing & looming like towers,
Casting eerie shadows & daunting silhouettes in the moonlight.
Unwanted formations arise.
When those glassy castle doors open up,
And are shot down or not well received,
The overprotected inner world, so full of idealism & purity, becomes deformed & misshapen from the inside out.
Abruptly changing the blueprints of the foundation of placidity & peace.
Leaving the landscape plain & devoid of the essence of its identity.
Now, in its place, sits the irrational fear of waking up to being given the Heimlich Maneuver–
Choking to death on this apathy that creeps up your throat like a parasite.
How then does one face them self in the mirror when the only reflection is a now dried up ravine that used to be something as strong & alive as an ocean?
All that stares back is a meaningless object whose original purpose has been abused & far-forgotten,
Like an empty bath tub who’s drain was pulled so long ago that the only thing remaining is a molding puddle of water,
Or a table covered in inches of dust, with stale bread, half eaten, sitting bleakly on a cracked plate,
Or a perfectly placed bouquet of flowers, left browned & dead in their painted porcelain vase covered in cobwebs.
A sight so unnerving, that you are overcome with waves of confusion when you try to understand it.
An unfinished scene that leaves you feeling so uneasy & disturbed that weeks later it still flashes in your mind the second you flutter your heavy, puffy eyelids closed at the end of the day.
It sits there in the back of your mind, anchored like a tick in your scalp,
Slowly feasting & sucking you dry,
Until it consumes you completely & leaves you groping for an ounce of relief.