A Visceral Poem;

Solitude.

Should I be able to sleep peacefully tonight, I shall awaken in an empty apartment.

An apartment devoid of laughter,
of joy,
of kinship,
of love.

And yet, it is my fortress,
my temple,
my home.

I will stroll around without a single shred of clothing,
dignity,
or motivation.

For the strength to rise above these deep, dark waters of isolation will come from a beautifully embroidered bottle of alcohol and a couple of grams of marijuana.

They give me focus,
purpose,
conviction,
motivation.

To stay the course, because my soul threw in the towel, but glances back at me every now and then.

It's quite the improvement, considering he was ready to throw himself in front of a bus.

Literally no more than 12 to 15 inches away, and his tale would have found it's conclusion,
it's finale,
the end.

Yet, he's still there. I don't know what he's hoping for, but he kept himself alive, and for now, that is enough.

I will float back to the surface and be washed ashore.
I will be dressed.
I will have read the work I need to catch up on.
I will have sacrificed sleep.
I will have sacrificed an opportunity for some basic nourishment.
And somehow I think I'm not sacrificing my mind.

I will walk amongst you, the fabric of our society. You won't see me.
I don't speak, as I have quite the talent for coming across as a pseudo mute.

Yet whenever I notice a resting gaze that has been placed on me for a while, I will smile back.

Am I lying to myself?
Am I lying to you?
Who exactly is being reassured by my smile?

Time will stop. I go about my obligations, at least those I have the strength for, and no more than 10 minutes will have passed.

This day will be like many others, seemingly forever lasting. I will pull open my book and read, yet distract myself with the thoughts of people I used to know.

I step out to smoke, I take a swig, I stay the course. I can't let melancholy back into my life, she's lethal now.

Before long my eyes will rise and the sun will set. I will return to the ghost town that is my apartment, except I'll find a stranger living in the other room.

We share blood from the same parents apparently. Who would've guessed?

He will tell me about his work and progress in his studies, as if I'm his commanding officer.
He will glare at me for any remark that could possibly be misconstrued as an insult.
Ultimately, he will resort to indifference, and I'll once again be alone.

That's before I receive a text from my sister. She's Jordanian. 2 years younger than I. She checks in on me, shows concern for my lack of self care, and will make an effort to see me.

And in that sweet moment of acknowledgement, solitude leaves me.

I reflect on what I want, and remind myself to stay the course. I will be leaving solitude behind  someday.

Someday soon.

Today isn't that day, and that's okay.