Boredom

There is a complete pandemonium in my mind
Every single time I get bored, I become blind.
Blind to all the perfection of the present moment,
It seems that I am my own opponent.
The anxiety comes in waves,
I am in need of a few saves.
The weight of relaxing
Leaves my body collapsing.
What is this immortal state?
It incessantly leaves me in checkmate.
It is not quite a mystery to me,
I have a lot of trauma, you see.
Whenever the stuffy memories come back,
And pieces get out of the dark,
Off the rack,
It feels like a heart attack - or better even,
An emotional and physical one, but I always bounce back!

My thoughts whisper back to me,
‘What are you doing, can’t you see?
You are not allowed to relax, what is this plea?’
They take a presence of their own,
And they eat me to the bone.
I want the forbidden gift,
I seek a shift.
Unwinding does not atrophy you,
It is, instead, the absolute glue
That holds it all together,
No matter the weather.