Anxiety washes away like waves
along the winding coastlines of SoCal during the day
No matter how many times I beat it, it returns
Just like how a fresh new crest of a wave re-emerges,
Eternally growing, moving, charging, crashing, repeating the cycle again,
when anxiety peaks I think of the sound of waves crashing
And try to think of things from a different lens. – RSM
Coming back home from the adolescent psych ward
my heart and mind were heavy, not to mention how hard it was to resurface,
back to school, bigger uniform pants and shirts to re-purchase.
Questions in good faith from friends, I left unanswered or just let out a lame lie
to salvage a little privacy.
I felt defeated, and tired of my life being broadcast to the masses of the teenage hallways;
alas, my inner circle showed up for me, always.
I used to say “Nah I’m good,” turn the other way and cough when my stoner crew lit the ganja, but when Fall of ’06 hit,
My life felt like it was burning anyway, so I lit
up with my True Family, Love is what they showed me,
and Mary Jane gave me back the smiles and the laughter that I felt like the universe still owed me.
Along my young adulthood I had a new bestie that tagged along and spent long afternoons
with me and my close ones, inner circles turned to ciphers and ‘pon the left we passed time
with the power of the magic plant uplifting our spirits – no matter the weather, the sun still shined.
“Closer to God” sounds about right.
I’m far from being a Rastaman but my BFF Mary Jane makes me feel so nice.
Through the reddest eyes I would inhale nature and breathe out love, the air above
and around me felt enchanted,
and boy, did I grow! Over these years I didn’t stay planted.
I brought along my bestie Mary Jane along my journey, she was there for me when I didn’t want to be anywhere.
It’s been a while since we’ve caught up, but I greet her with a smile every time she comes through,
I meet her halfway on a higher realm,
She asks me how I’ve been doing, I just laugh like old times, and tell her “I’m doing okay, I just feel like myself.” – RSM
The strong-aired curves swerve – a typhoon, perturbed, as
forceful winds flurry with feverish words –
our, mind’s micro-tornadoes dictate the day-to-day of this play, though,
society keeps us locked in to the track we’re on, molding us, like Play-Doh –
the goalposts are moving targets, dancing to wind-chimed rhythms, floating through life’s maze
and throughout the thoughts that run through us, our ego survéys –
these, hurricanes are in the brain, gusts measured in emotions-per-moment,
we circle through the cycles of love, peace, fear, and pain, – swirling,
the storm dissipates – and we’re left in a space with no humidity nor rain,
just a calm, cool, cloudless view of the dark hues of outer space.
Back around we go in our roles on this never-ending, traveling Broadway show,
as the strong-aired curves swerve – a typhoon, perturbed, as
forceful winds flurry with feverish words…
– RSM
Thick, dry ropes, with strong flames, burning,
running parallel, at different speeds, converging,
The flames race on, hiss and move along, swerving,
so much uncurling to do, it’s unnerving –
A full, blue moon hovers over big changes,
that shape and carry on the flames to their next stages,
The coming days, weeks, years, you’ll feel the full force
of where these winds of change blow the flames’ embers to-wárds.
Some of the ropes run a straight, narrow line,
keeping their flames the same – a slow, steady grind,
others slither-and-wind, flames wither-and-die,
Ultimately they all spiral together and combine.
This fire is all we have – the present is the blaze,
The past are the charred ropes, smoke rising in a haze
and future are the ropes ahead, yet to be burned – unfazed
by the warmth of the moment that we feel day to day.
So many of the burning strings entangle at angles
that show a grim picture – the near future looks mangled,
the present feels pretty unpleasant, we’re not fine;
headed toward uncertainty, as crooked timelines intertwine.- RSM
Rubén Sebastián Muñiz | ∞ 