introversion – seventy four

Being alone is only quietude to the outer world.

In reality there is nothing quiet about being alone.

Your mind is amplified, and the cacophony of noise is deafening.

Your soul begins to speak to your heart and the conversation is loud and outrageous.

The difference is, you choose the music, the setting, the volume and intensity.

If people who are outwardly loud knew the inside of us, they’d flee in terror.

-Wesam El dahabi

Irrespective of natural predisposition to introversion,
for some of us, it becomes a conscious choice.

Unbound by what nature wants,
we forge our way inwards past its reservations for us,
to kingdoms of our own accord.

The folly is not on one who lives there,
imaginary as it may be,
but for the one who hasn’t the conceivability,
worse yet,
who hasn’t the will.

W.E.

introversion seventy two

When did my skin become real estate for anxiety,
and this world fool me to its allure?
When did my tongue choose the way so cowardly,
and my way become so impure?
My lips haven’t moved, and tongue hasn’t faltered,
yet still I’m victim to mediocrity,
my hands are frozen, my heart become hardened,
left bereft and abandoned without cure.

W.E.

Self inflicted anxiety and depression

Feeble is the mind,
of he who thinks they posses the power,
to effectuate the outcomes of time,
as if to say they control its ravages or its fortunes.

In that comprehension,
they are bound by simpleness,
and we are obligated to remind each other of,
that is,
to point clearly to its draining nature,
and how anxiety and depression,
are both born of it.

Come then my brother,
know well my sister,
sons and daughter,
to what will offer you comfort and peace,
that is,
from times shackles be released.

Wesam El dahabi

Erasure is easier

 

 

I’ve driven myself insane with aspiration,
and now without anxiety or misstep,
at the drop of a hat,
I’d wipe all I’ve become conditioned to know,
if it meant a moment with divinity.

In other words,
a maturing thought that pulsates,
that is the catalyst to accelerated achievement,
will have to mean erasure.

A vanishing if you will,
from myself,
this self that does nothing but accumulate waste,
until the toxicity becomes default.

The dragging nature of growth,
doesn’t appeal,
as time juxtaposes my reconciliation,
and mocks my milestones.

Time is having its way with me,
and disappearing appears to be,
the only way to disarm it.

Ironic that I’ve become,
the ammunition against myself,
in the same breath,
poison and antidote,
at odds,
in the minds courtroom.

Some call it schizophrenia,
perhaps bi-polar,
a thousand more names and labels,
man will forever find an excuse,
for dealing with their state.

Still, erasure is easier.

Wesam El dahabi

introversion – seventy one

Three AM silence,
is not a healthy way to find your breath.

Depriving ourselves,
of what is normal for others,
awake when they sleep,
awake when they’re awake,
takes its toll on you.

When you think of it,
it’s double the work for half the survival.

That survival is only temporary,
before you use up your heart.

W.E.