Un the Lib

You know, it is rather difficult to discuss mental health The simile of the racing thoughts is a swift flight Swift, and Intrepid like an Arabian horse, Sometimes, too hard to decipher, even. I face the past, and I talk. and I keep talking about many, many issues And you heard me there, silently. Then, you whispered into my ears, “Un the lib.” Did you utter the word, “Un the lib?” Or, was it a call for another scapegoat, with the name Andalib? My understanding is getting clouded, and clouded enough. Vulnerably, and abnormally. But there is no problem. Neighborhood concept runs into such difficulties, these days. They are yawning and dribbling in so many places, chilling effects... With the metaphor of a prophetic narration with so many broken chains, harder to trace even. Understanding. It whittles down to an empty bottle of pickles, decisively. Never tried to forget “Un the lib” though, Never tried too hard to break free, nonetheless. Word abandons me along the way, cult of own whims too. Let us come to the points, Closer enough to the bullet points, A poet’s life, bohemian, unpredictable A very fine line to decipher between irrationality, insanity Nothing more than this. Just this. “Hallo, microphone testing, one, two, three, hallo?” Nothing more than that, not even a one liner. Please do return to your beloved dream. Find your imagination in your beautiful enigmatic lover You may fetch her, even from the farthest corner of a poem And, please be sure that you may. And you may do so, for me On and on. Is it too much of a task? I saw you both, together, already. Wandering around, streets imprinted you both. Footsteps. Muddy constellations. Guided me through. Meticulous coldness. May I perceive it as a stigma? As a cliché? As a bubbly snow? Whistleblower? crawling with the irrationality to linger more? Perhaps, just so, because, it never served me enough. Or are there anything? To digress with any of these? Yes, it is better that way Do return, please do so, earnestly. And lame excuses are in abundance, It will find me too, sooner or later, anyhow. “Un the Lib,” how far are you there, with your two cents?