Déjà Vu and Shooting Stars: Prose Poetry

Yesterday night, I swirled a globe with my fingertips that shimmered under the neon fairy lights emerging from my roommate’s canopy wall. It looked like a dilapidated disco ball of a downtown club that shut down not long before the pandemic followed. My eyes were filled with the portion of witches, predatory hunger and gentle fascination, a toxic hazard. 

You see, I was desperate, searching for the map of a magic shop. A magic shop that still followed the barter system. I wanted to barter my fears for better dreams. 

I had to. I had to because my fears were guillotining me in slow motion, a 0.25 speed of a YouTube video, and day by day, I was choked with its burden like stars caught in the rattrap of gravity. I needed to exchange my fears for pretty dreams like the invincibility of the human spirit, a strong soul, and poetry that was not ugly. 

I had to because my fears became never-ending nightmares, cradling my insomnia into bloodstained war grounds. 

-> I dreamt that teenagers were taking their own lives off shelves like thieves in Walmart. Their sketchbooks had no fruit bowls and scenic landscapes but scribbles and doodles of mental illnesses. Their mothers were finding new scars on their bodies every fortnight, wondering when did sketch pens and body paint transform into knives and silent cursive screams?

-> I had horrifying visuals of people making brutal art. Music which encouraged the groping and manhandling of women by men in public, documentaries which showed how conversion therapies lead to better sanity of “gays”, movies that glorified non-consensual sex, rape culture and dramas which normalized bully to lover tropes. 

I woke up choking on my lungs, my organs breaking down into dehydrated glucose and sick bio-mechanisms.

-> Once I overthought into lucid dreaming. I saw the police changing its profession from protectors of the city to killers of the people. Fake politicians admiring the banyan tree of communalism and hate crimes, a seed they once sowed when they were desperate for attention like Tinker Bell.

Rape threats under videos were so casual that nobody even talked about it anymore. The right to privacy was an inside joke by a secret society that everyone knew. Student loans metamorphosed into a circus of juggling part-time jobs or late-night webcam shows. Poverty begged for alms on free Google ads and spirituality became the debris of religion.  

People around me were co-existing in a cesspool of self-loathe, bleeding their hearts into art journals and lyrics on digital notepads. My friends chained themselves to beds, never texted me for ice-creams yet sent “my therapist said” memes and less enthusiastic rants on YA novels.

My professors yelled at me for wearing sleeveless clothes. My relatives gifted me conservative ideologies at the Christmas dinner. My present of a rainbow identity was enveloped in termites and cobwebs under a bottomless closet, their present of acceptance was never wrapped, around their minds or with a ribbon.

 ****

I laughed when I woke up the next day because my Mum asked me to be scared of Blood Mary. She told me summoning Bloody Mary 3 times in front of the mirror is fatal.

But I never told her that I stood in front of such a mirror which made me realize that no one is coming just because you asked them. 

Today, I went to the magic shop to exchange my fears for better dreams, they refused my request and pleading and commanding and crying and begging. 

They were out of stock. Fun fact: Lack of double coincidence of wants cannot help in curing insomnia. 

So, tonight, I swirled the shimmering globe with my fingertips again and whispered, “Where does it hurt?” 

“Everywhere. Everywhere. Everywhere.”

Now, I see my fears alive or maybe I am dead because I can never sleep. At least stars fall after they are freed from the rattrap of gravity, and I wonder when will I become a shooting star? 

I am just breathing and writing ugly poetry.  

My art is a psychedelic drug and I am drowning in déjà vu. Help me! 

//” Déjà Vu and Shooting Stars”// Enigma

Copyright © 2016-2020 Enigma. All rights reserved.

Picture Credits: Google Images

4 thoughts on “Déjà Vu and Shooting Stars: Prose Poetry

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  1. I’ve had to take quite a lot of time to read this and condense my thoughts into coherent words.
    This time I didn’t end up speechless but definitely the opposite.
    I’m overwhelmed.

    “I was desperate, searching for the map of a magic shop. A magic shop that still followed the barter system. I wanted to barter my fears for better dreams.”
    If only we could find this magic shop in our tangible world. Until the day it actually exists to my touch, my only comfort is the song of it and you know which one I mean. I want to barter my fears and overthinking for confidence or strength if I had the chance.

    “I was choked with its burden like stars caught in the rattrap of gravity.”
    This is a tragically beautiful way to see the different side of cosmic beauty.

    “Their sketchbooks had no fruit bowls and scenic landscapes but scribbles and doodles of mental illnesses.” This 🥺

    “when did sketch pens and body paint transform into knives and silent cursive screams” I wish talking about mental health was normalized. That approaching for help came easy to many. I hope it does it future.

    “Music which encouraged the groping and manhandling of women by men in public”
    It’s sad that I could immediately picture a list of songs in my head that revolved around this.

    “documentaries which showed how conversion therapies lead to better sanity of “gays”, movies that glorified non-consensual sex, rape culture and dramas which normalized bully to lover tropes.” – ‘Imitation Game’ comes to mind ; The story of the genius Alan Turing. Although it wasn’t a documentary, it did give me some insight on the issue of conversion therapies for ‘better sanity’ and how homosexuality was treated in the past. Society perceives anything that is even remotely different to its pre-existing norms as a threat and is always ready to crush it.To think that people were and often still are judged by their sexuality besides anything else makes me feel so dejected. Atleast we’ve evolved from our preconceived notions a little. Ah and normalizing rape culture is sick to the core. So… So so sick ugh.

    It breaks my heart but doesn’t surprise me to realize everything you lucid dreamed about exists right now in the world we live in.

    “My present of a rainbow identity was enveloped in termites and cobwebs under a bottomless closet, their present of acceptance was never wrapped, around their minds or with a ribbon.”
    🥺

    What you write is never ugly poetry, it’s haunting, daunting, and intimidating truth in the most immaculate way anyone could ever.
    It is raw, it is real.
    It is gorgeously painful.
    And it is beautiful.

    Your art definitely is a psychedelic drug and I’m willingly addicted.
    Oh how I wish I could help you, I definitely will try my best, but in all honesty, I might need help myself.

    Sending you love, happy wishes and purple hearts!
    -Megha 💜

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Hey M! This is such a genuine comment from your end and I am truly delighted that you felt all these things in this piece. The magic shop lines are inspired from that song and I wish your soul is the magic shop that can grant your wishes of confidence and strength.

      Mental illnesses are still a taboo around forget, illness, mental health which is as important as physical health is never given any fundamental reflection from humanity. Sometimes the parents have not a single idea what a child goes through or even like as adults what your friends go through, your parents go through, this peekaboo is just gruesome and it is surprising when the gear finally goes into overdrive and something truly horrifying happens, Mental health awareness is so so vital in this world.

      Rape culture is just ughhh! forget it. I can never talk about this without ticking myself off, and its just disgusting and the helplessness, the hopelessness makes me more sick. I truly, truly wish that I can contribute whatever is in my power, whatever I can strive for to make eradicate this sickness.

      The Imitation Game is my all time favourite movie because well, I love computers and my pseudonym is Enigma and who the hell does not love Bumblebee Cinnamonrolls (Tumblr has made it a habit to never pronounce Cumberbatch’s name right) Conversion therapies infuriate me like I wanna do something so brutal to people who even are involved in it, it brings out the irrational and monstrous fragment side of mine. We surely are evolving but more or less, things are still the same. I hope people really start believing in the most overrated cliched quote. “To Live and To Let Live”.

      This piece is just me letting out one of the few the thoughts that don’t let me sleep at night. I referred to as ugly because of the theme and also because these thoughts bring out a really wrenching ugly side of me.

      Hehehe, your compliments are flattering but any kind of addiction is bad so I would advice you against it, 🤣

      But on a serious note, I think all of us just have to help ourselves every day to get out of these thoughts or else we will just drown in the cynicism. I hope art can help you in such tiring situations.

      Returning this with loads of love, happy thoughts and purple hearts 💜 💜 💜,

      Enigma 🙂 ❤

      Liked by 2 people

  2. You know, I very much got the feeling of entrapment with each line I read. Like no matter what happens, there is some sort of wall, or restriction no matter where you look. However, the way each paragraph is threaded makes me wonder at what cost this beautiful piece came to fruition.

    Like an agate stone, you added layers so delicately to the point where a single read will hardly give this piece justice. Which is why I’ll admit this is perhaps my third time reading it. I read it when you first posted it and took time to digest before coming back with fresh eyes.

    “You see, I was desperate, searching for the map of a magic shop. A magic shop that still followed the barter system. I wanted to barter my fears for better dreams.
    I had to. I had to because my fears were guillotining me in slow motion, a 0.25 speed of a YouTube video, and day by day, I was choked with its burden like stars caught in the rattrap of gravity”

    This yearning for the bartering of the intangible speaks to my personal understanding of anxiety and depression. I won’t assume the piece is running in parallel with this, that would be wrong of me, but I definitely got that vibe. Loved the line about being choked like stars caught in the rattrap of gravity. You know, that endless suspension when applied to ourselves can certainly feel overwhelming when I imagine it. Like, where do you go? You know? There’s something about being at the mercy of something greater than ourselves that gives ease and at the same time gives this encroaching feeling of an existential crisis.

    “I dreamt that teenagers were taking their own lives off shelves like thieves in Walmart” – Morbid and genius. I love this line. Suicide coinciding with the short-sighted nature of thieves into one well-weaved line. I repeat: I really love the subtext here; which is why ….

    I don’t agree with this line “I am just breathing and writing ugly poetry”. Your work is anything but ugly Enigma, it offers much-needed perspective. And I love reading it.

    You mentioned rape-culture, abuse of power, double-standards, the fall of religion, the disparities between age groups, societal expectations and how most of it is rudderless. All true, which is why as creatives I feel we see the world clearer than most. A little bit of a gift and a curse I suppose.

    I hope to see you write more soon. And if I remember anything else I wished to say i’ll add. You are missed my friend ❤

    Liked by 4 people

    1. Hello Dante! It has truly been a while but I am glad to be back on this platform, welcomed by such genuine analysis on my pieces given by you.

      This is one of those pieces I was skeptical of posting due its cynicism and how it feels like I am laying my heart bare to my readers and cannot find my usual hiding places of metaphors and imagery even though I have tried hiding behind them in this piece but its in vain, personally. This snippet came at a cost of a lot of cynicism and existentialism and suppressed anger I suppose.

      Oh my goodness, I cannot believe you took so much time out of your life to spend it on reading this piece, you have no idea how much that means to me and I am always thankful for your support and interest in my pieces.

      After reading your thoughts on it, I would think that maybe these reflections are accompanied with anxious and depressing thoughts because such themes are very exhausting for me personally to ponder upon. I also completely agree about what you said on being at mercy to something greater. That sort of uncertainty is liberating yet captivates you in some unseen clutches at the same time. It makes you feel like a magical creation yet gives you an existential crisis.

      Oh Dante! I just think this piece is ugly with the contents and themes I have accentuated in it and because it brings out a ugly, wrenching and infuriating side of me but I do see how you are correct in saying that we have been given the lens of perspective through this art form which is a boon and a bane simultaneously,

      I owe you so much gratitude for taking your time out always to read my works, not just as a sense of obligation but putting in time and efforts to enjoy it, reflect your thoughts on it and write such meaningful comments. As a writer, as much as it is validating, it is also shocking how the power of words can connect people especially on something like an online platform. So, thank you so much for always supporting me and encouraging me with your kind compliments and insightful analysis.

      I have been away and trust me, I have missed this little space too. I have been writing more but posting less I guess. But looking forward to catching up on your posts the soonest too.

      Stay happy and healthy!
      Stay gold!

      Enigma 🙂 ❤

      Like

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