The Kebilsphere

I can’t find the words to use
To say what I want to tell you
I don’t know exactly what this is,
This feeling
This feeling I get when I think about you
This is something only you give me
And I will not go without

Life is struggle, agony, and death
You bring me joy, peace, and life
The pain and hurt that I was barely bearing
Are eased by sound of your voice
Angry thoughts I can not quell
Are extinguished by your embrace

And so I search every dictionary and thesaurus,
I consult with the poets and philosophers
I lie awake through night alone thinking
To see if this I can understand

When I finish learning English
And I have learnt every word and phrase
I will tell you what these feelings are all about
What exactly I mean, when I say
That you are deep in my heart and my mind
And I think you might feel the same
And as I try to figure out
What this is all about
I hope you can understand
That there is so much more I want to say

Lately I’ve been flirting with sobriety
Just experimenting with this as another means of
tinkering with my neurochemistry
Seeking an altered state of consciousness

I am being careful, of course
Don’t want to get hooked on a new habit
I try to keep it down to only a couple of times a week,
avoid doing it at my parents house (don’t want them to freak out)
And I never do it during the work week

I have known some people who
took it up and it proved disastrous for them.
What started out as a quaint diversion
An experiment, a new kick
Became for them a new way of life.
They ended up being sober constantly,
had to turn to crime to support this latest addiction
They basically turned their brains off, without the proper level of
exogenous neurotransmitters,
Their brain chemistry was in sore need of pharmaceutical care

They soon became boring, stupid, with a flat affect,
entirely more predictable and level headed
Prone to bouts of boredom, they found it necessary to get 7 to 10
hours of sleep everynight and they started to eat food everyday
They were now the victims of food and sleep addiction as well

We all felt sorry for them, tried to help them as best we could
But the more we tried, the angrier they got
To our offers of help, they would reply,
Hurling insults and reprimands, the call of
Alcoholic, Junkie, and Crackhead spewing
with venom from their mouths
All I could do was to remind myself that it was not
them saying these things, it was their addiction,
their problem, the sobriety talking

I don’t want to end up under the thumb
of another cruel master
But I have trouble not sticking with what is normal
I have always enjoyed experimentation,
at times results have been for the worse
So this time I am careful
Moderation is the key, in everything
Even in reference to moderation

Fooling myself that I can keep it all under control
I fill my head with empty ideas and bland thoughts
I will stop this, this abstinence
My mom raised no quitters, and I would hesitate to let her down

Dedicated to you