In the month that I popped a pharmaceutical drug to feel better,
I smiled for the first time in months at a lame joke,
I stopped worrying about where I was going to be if the zombie apocalypse was to happen,
I ceased feeling terrified of waking up to the voice of Joey Ramone to not want to be or feel anymore,
I wondered how Hemingway felt as he stared at the glittering city lights of the Rive Gauche, typing down his dark thoughts,
I walked to the blinking white silhouette of a tiny person across the street, without hoping that the cars would magically skewer to the side and consequentially crush my skull in,
I felt my heart enlarging like a balloon, while I stared into his magnetic eyes, that remind me of the glistening candlelit lights of Paris after the war,
I craved the chocolate ice cream my imaginary little brother bought me while annoying me,
I listened to the world and heard it's rambles and jangles and knew that "every little thing is gonna be alright",
and I watch myself in the mirror to realize that I this person staring back at me is a shell enveloping in the shock at my utter disbelief that I don't know who I am anymore.
Perhaps somewhere out there, in a parallel universe, wherein lies reality or fantasy, I have already given up and is watching me here to mock me.
I've decided to make this poem not flow in tone and rhythm. Unwise choice, I know, but I'm experimental and hopefully get some muse off this in a future date?