At one time in my life I had a very cozy, laid back Latibule where I could just curl up into myself and not worry about outside concerns. Among all the adverse things going on in the world, I was still able to maintain some form of sanity.

Although, there was a time when ūhtcearu would invade my space like a drunken sod. My doctor calls it pre-dawn anxiety. Back then, I called it not having enough beer.

Because of this, I had a case of severe Monachopsis, that being out of time, out of place thing where I didn’t fit in with any one thing or any one person. Again, my doctor said I would get over it, saying that my Athazagoraphobias of being forgotten wouldn’t last long. Of course I thought to myself, “Sure. Fifty years after I’m dead, no one would know about me to begin with.”

Like I explained to my doctor, I never had that, ah, oh what do you call it—you know; when you are close to people but not close? Oh, I remember now. Midding, that’s what the doctor calls it. Something about feeling good being nearby people without having to be involved with what they do. Basically, all my life, I have been a loner who occasionally gets involved with people, especially when it comes to, ah—dining in.

But my doctor said my big issue was relationship agony. He called it, Pistanthrophobia, the fear of getting hurt romantically.

For years I had this persisting problem called Monachopsis. Yeah, I know, another big word. But I was clumsy around people, distracted and felt out of touch, out of place.

But my doctor says I am getting much better now since my thirst for cannibalism has waned considerably. He said that if I continue improving he may recommend I be released from the world of insanity I am locked into in another five or ten years.

But you know something? Just once I would like to take a bite of that finger he points at me for old time sake.

*****

For the record: Definitions

Midding: feeling invisible yet still fully included, safe in the knowledge

that everyone is together and everyone is okay, with all the thrill

of being there without the burden of having to be.

Latibule: A cozy, safe, hidden away place. One where a soul can cocoon

themselves and find comfort and solace. A latibule is a necessity

if one is to keep their sanity intact and their heart strong.

Monachopsis (noun): The subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place,

as maladapted to your surroundings as a seal on a beach—lumbering,

clumsy, easily distracted, huddled in the company of other misfits, unable

to recognize the ambient roar of your intended habitat,

in which you'd be fluidly, brilliantly.

Athazagoraphobia: a fear of forgetting someone or something,

as well as a fear of being forgotten.

Pistanthrophobia: a phobia of getting hurt

by someone in a romantic relationship.

ūhtcearu: waking up with a sense of pre-dawn anxiety.

---

you were packing your stuff

your then girlfriend was helping out

I was sitting on the carpet

ripping off the woolen threads

and there was someone else there

but I don’t remember much

and I keep forgetting things

but I swear you stood on top

of the bed, and I don’t know why

but I burned it all in my head:

yachts, money, Thailand, a reunion

Berlin, a house, carpentry, coding

a family, your future son's name,

coming back, leaving, all the shit

your mom gives you that idles unused

like your vitamin tablets - luggage a

portable pharmacy that can make a

hospital cross blush; everything

was slipping through grins while around

the corners of our mouth were accordion

lines playing farewells and goodbyes.

I thought at the time, "I'd miss this"

& it took me out & I felt like

an old man fading away, replaying

watercolor memories blended

together uncommaed

with all the mojito whites peacock greens

summer-dazed ambers lavalamp indigos

Miles Davis blues 3AM blacks stoplight reds

swallowing, dancing, sleeping all over

until the brush strokes mere dry

crusted horse hairs, and there's nothing

but the sound of it scraping

away the dust that's layered over thick.

Yet when this word "midding"

flashed that still on cranium dome,

there's no longing, no nostalgia, no missing

but just love,

reminding me that even though

yachts, money, Thailand, a reunion

Berlin, a house, carpentry, coding

a family, your future son's name,

coming back, leaving will all never happen,

what we he had did,

and that's good enough for me.

---

i always fear i could forget you

that you’ll fade from my mind with age

i always fear that letting you go will be too easy,

and that all of this anxiety will be for naught.

do you fear it too?

do you cling to me, afraid that my memory will fail?

do you lay awake at night, fearing for remembrance?

i leave little pieces of you everywhere,

small reminders of your beautiful existence,

so that everywhere i go, a trail of you will follow.

i say your name every few minutes, to remind myself

that you will always be with me, no matter how far.

i am always afraid of forgetting you,

afraid that your sanity-inducing touch will fade

and i will be left with my own darkness.

Where soft olive vines coil around abonded monkey bars.

When summer breezes carried soft secrets and childish crushes.

Who blooms large violet flowers with sweet scents.

What has become of my old latibule, I wonder?

Why can I no longer feel the soft childhood it cradeled so long ago?

How can I get those memories back?

I’ve searched and searched and searched

waiting for the perfect fit

bought and paid for in cash

and mine to make my own

my peaceful retreat in the woods

looking over the river below

hidden among the trees

a quick hike up the pass

doesn't even have an address

I sit and listen

Yes, I am okay

Yes, I am awake

No, I don't care to speak

My anxiety prevents me from doing more

Than sitting and listening

So I observe and learn

They wonder how I know so much

Since I never speak

But I'm always there

Listening and learning

Throughout childhood I sat and listened

To the adults discuss the world and its problems

And so I learned through the osmosis

Of their words entering my ears

And catching onto the fibers of my brain

I still sit and listen

Even today as an adult

They think I should "participate"

But I am happy and content

Where I am

On the edge

Of the crowd

Observing and watching

Everyone and everything

Without having to waste my energy

By opening my mouth

To express the thousands of thoughts

Racing and running through my head

I am content simply being