Sitting at home being lazy
Another day at home, I might just go crazy

youre here but youre not
im not lonely but im alone
this is the best i can get
i can see your smile, your eyes
your beautiful appearance
but its still not enough
i want you here in my arms
the country borders that separate us
this facetime call
its not close enough

An x-ray view of what was before while looking for the after now
Like a resurrection and afterlife on some biblical prophecy
Be aware on the conscious for its under attack by malware
soon to fully develop into a spyware
Your mental is like your software
Operating system needs an upgrade
This virus just gave it a reboot
With simple task manager for putting on a mask
Betterment of the self is a daily update              
Because the past is what you have lived and it all crashed
But we need to understand that our attention on affection is being hacked
Being scanned everyday as we usher into the era of the cyborg
Some lifestyles we need to abort
Social interaction is digitalized
friends are stranger on social media
Here was the birth of social distancing
industrialization sign in globalization to confinement
Can’t we see the danger!?, people have become invisible
Let put aside propaganda its not in this piece’s agenda
In an atmosphere filled with uncertainty
dwells fear of change with a wave of intolerance
A dominant experience at the moment is sense of grief
notion of sadness, despair, helplessness, powerlessness and anger
Fragment of blame, echo chambers of many
Negative escalation of human degradation
Issue is on face mask as the color of the skin
Being policed by leaders with empty promises
It feels like the pandemic took a 360 degrees turn
to make it a worldwide web
In some ways it has come full circle
back to localization, national budget and personal introspect
Everyone is loading their data
refresh the mind on the page
what does history show
Before the hand shakes, people kissed to greet
Here we tap our feet
Gathering set the tone of joy
Togetherness was a remedy now in a memory
We just have to stick as family
unfamiliar at a point of acceptance becomes familiar

Like the *** you transferred
into calcareous soil, not knowing
it would turn the leaves yellow
as they rot.
Under a winter sun
I gave too much
or not enough,
the dirt arid then wet through,
half a glass of stale water
remaining below the roots.

The dark green, the larger ones fell first,
turned yellow on their edges
or from their ribs,
their stems browning until they failed,
to carry the weight,
to nourish the foliage.
The smaller leaves rolled on themselves,
day by day sagging a little more,
light green and brittle,
crumbling.

I moved the plant,
and moved it again,
by the window for some sun,
but with the cold seeping through!
You provided the chemicals,
I moved the plant again,
aware by now that I might be too late
and it may not recover,
not when the sun warms the earth anew,
not when the world rights itself once more.

Though - if the rot has not taken hold
yet of the roots
or of the branches,
and if our balms are enough to save
the trunk with the future stems,
we may once again
see spiking curls grow
and darkening green leaves unfold,
wondrous flowers bloom,
red flamingos standing tall.

Sneaking drinks,
because I'm not old enough.
At first it was fun,
now it's not as much.
Now I'm drinking because "I've had a long day"
and I like the static that comes.
Now I'm drinking because "I don't feel happy"
and I like the butterflies that comes.
Now I'm drinking because "I don't want to be sober"
and I like the blackout that comes.
The static sounds out the yelling and crying,
from my family.
The butterflies replace the feeling he use to give me,
that's no longer there.
The blackout helps me sleep with my thoughts,
that tell me it's time to go.
Sneaking drinks,
because I'm not old enough.
At first it was fun,
now I need it.

You need to be scared,
scared that any slip up could be fatal.
Not for you of course,
for the ones you forget about.
the ones you chose your self over.
Like your step dad,
when was the last time you said hi,
while you were slipping out into the night.
They will be gone and,
You're not getting them back.
You need to be scared.
You need to think everyones going to die,
because they will.
You need to spend every moment giving love to others.
Stop being selfish,
you don't matter,
you need to be scared.

Jigsaw puzzle of greenery, the trees
Nestle next to each in the
slicing sideways light of sunset.
The yard in the back is filled with it,
Filled with the late late summer side slant
of sun,
The plastic Adirondack chairs, left, as we left them,
Me, looking at you, maybe my feet
in your lap...
No, it wasn’t us that set them ajar.
The one time we sat there, your discomfort
Grated on my tranquil storybook
Vision, of us sitting
in the sun,
Drinking,
The Wine,
so we went inside.

Now I see them, those pretend plastic,
Pale blue, light blue to match
The house,
chairs of ease,
One chair looking at the other, while
the other stares off into
Space.
We meant to build a fire that
Summer, a fire pit
evening of
Romance.
But, I saw your dis-ease.
Was it the heat? The drone
of the bugs?
The chance of a gnat,
Landing in your
drink?
 
Or was it,…something
Different.
Something not found
in the sideways slant of
cooling air.
Was it, something
else, off
in that horizon,
Blocked
by the pale blue, the light
Blue house.
Something,
cutting your sight
Off
from the road.

It must have been, because, you said
Goodbye, several times
That summer.  A nod, a
kiss, and you were
Off,
in your mind,
because you never
left, but sat in your uncomfortable
Sadness of not
Belonging here, or
Where you thought;
Wistful plans set,  a
Blaze, not by
Midnight cords of wood
in a pile among the
Rocks,
Set ablaze by whimsy,
A promise,  not
Promise.
 
So, we sat that summer,
and watched the flowers in the
pots bloom,
and the rains carry one
away,
And the gnats gnatting
as gnats do,
Cannon balling into pinot,
taking  up
Residence, in that
Pale blue, light blue
house
With plastic mountain
Chairs
On the lawn.

Those chairs,
Those, Adirondack chairs
Still sit, still sit askew, still
sit, in the slanting light,
Still sit, waiting,
as I do,
For a time
Things, will be right
with the
World.
We must get, to
the other side, of
That Summer.
Let the snow pile high,
on those Chairs,
Get to, the whimsy, and
the Promise.
Watch down the
road, for a time to
travel, and not sit,
in uncomfortable
Sadness,
Askew in plastic
Chairs.

he asked me,
"have you ever been depressed"
I mentally laugh because "been" like past tense.
but I answer yes confidently as I had beat the little pest.
I asked him the same and he said yes but not any more,
and in awe I ask "how did you stop?"
he talked about it so easily,
but I struggle so hard.
He said he just knew he had to do it for him,
and instead of hope,
I felt pain,
as depression tucked me in.