I eagerly await another day of attempting to meet new people.
Students amble through our campus, up and down the hill,
Listening to music, staring at the ground, or caught up in their head,
Past a new potential friend: me.

I’ve got my friends, ones of the highest quality,
In the city, just half an hour north of me.
I don’t see them much, though, and I have no way to leave.
We can’t speak much, either; they’ve got jobs and loves and lives.

So, to maximize my social potential, I put myself to work.
I’ve mastered the art and science alike of socializing;
“Use this register”; “smile at this distance”; “speak to listen, don’t wait to talk”.
Studying it all extensively to figure out what’s best.

They’re everywhere, I hear, in the dozens, maybe hundreds.
Folks just like me: trying to overcome the awkward and build a bond.
So where are they all, and why do my paintings remain unseen?
Why do my endless chemistry attempts produce no reaction?

Well, a girl said “hello” in the stairwell as I headed for my dorm.
She smiled, seeming to be one of few to acknowledge my attempts.
Just a friendly gesture, sure, yet I think of it often, her unaware of its value.
I cross paths with many daily, yet I’ve seen no interaction like it since.

I let my confidence carry me toward new opportunities and situations I desire,
Yet, whenever I go to approach them, something nags at me.
A hand that pulls me back; a wall that stops me in my tracks.
It’s Anxiety, and he’s back, worse than ever.

Within this conundrum lies a great irony; a twist that tears at my conscience.
The closer I get to making friends, the tighter Anxiety’s grasp grips me.
“No, what if your words are taken wrong?”. “The bond won’t last.” “...But your eating…”
The reward, even if achieved, seems not to be without caveats, he claims.

He’s right; at a distance, I am safe; nobody can see me struggle to eat,
Yet this sentences me to suffer the animosity of my esophagus in solitude.
I am shielded from criticism, watchful eyes, and the projections of my mind,
Yet I am my most isolated in the most social of the places I’ve ever lived.

So, I eagerly await that new day of attempting to meet new people.
Fellow loners who walk ‘cross pathways, through buildings, and to their dorms.
Cradling their digital safety net in-hand, perhaps fearing what I fear,
Past their new potential friend.

Call me an animal,
Don't stand between me
And a fresh cut of meat

Hard to believe, we're the same mammal
In a stand-off, with one who bleeds
But not like me

Of that same air
Our lungs take in, we both breathe in
Scents of a different breed

**** your homogenies
Don't need a lecture on my biology
And you can keep your philosophy
If it comes from a book riddled with prophecy

Wicked kind of dichotomy.
In a country that pushes for peace
But funds war,
Who is it for?

Not the ones fighting
Not the ones dying

Life sometimes sunny, rainy or snowy
But what of those cloudy days
When we are too depressed to dress

How do we interpret that which befalls us
When it is dark above and an ill wind blows in
What do we rely upon as our barometer

There a myriad of reasons for when the weather changes
Maybe health is being a messy storm and a dichotomy of ailments
Or your relationship resembling a twisting tornado

A lost job or business failure a hurricane to the future
Droughts in our lives igniting all types of addictions
Failing grades a tsunami of disappointment

Postpartum a wall of sleet not easily navigated
Mental illness a torrent too easily dismissed
Marriage troubles a cyclone bursting forth

Loss of love resembling mesmerizing howling winds
Death a lightning rod striking into the soul
The past a swirling sandstorm blinding us

Andreas Simic©

“It’s all in your head”,
On repeat to forestall entropy,
My mind’s in two places at once,
Needing more -
Incessantly yearning for more,
Yet overcome with gratitude
That I should receive anything at all.

you are
syntax and semantics
phonetics and phonology
you are
written and oral
formal and informal
you are
past and future
now and forever
you are
identity and heritage
togetherness and uniqueness
you are
simple and complex
imperfect and perfect
you are
language.

Memories of you
are dust-specks in sunbeams.
Capricious ghosts that flicker and dance

in warm liquid gold.
Elusive and volatile. Liable to cascade at a
glance.

In time they will settle. I will not,
for a while.
I will sit with ghosts. I will let them dance.

It's really great to see you again -
But who are you exactly?
With an uncanny likeness to someone I once knew.
A traitor of culture and face.
A soul come adrift.
Where do you wish to be?
You've always desired more,
Yet I see your future clear.
An empty carcass devoid of what gave you self.
A voice soft-spoken and bathed in envy,
Lacking cognizance and perpetuating hedonistic acts.
A departure from your familiar figure with a ghastly outstretched hand
Requesting I become like you,
Abandoning oneself and
Embracing thy disarray.