I Resemble A Mafia

Travelling out of town
a rarity in the last two years
when most of the days I stay home
doing all sorts of activities online.

Moved out for a week and a half
the roads seem new, so do the people walking
with masks covering the mouth and nose
with distraction, most wearing under the chin.

It is life once again bubbling with energy
apprehension of the deadly virus
wanes gradually and normalcy
is more or less back though demure.

I, for one a stickler to norms
going out for the first time
with gloves and mask perfectly adorned
sense a fear to mingle with the crowd.

Distancing myself from those around,
I resemble a mafia, my eyes roam
my hands turn fidgety as I clasp
and squeeze them with force.


That I am Into

A break, a long one
had been into many sojourns
one overlapping the other
some outsmarting the rest
more of them very demanding
driving me mad.

With my fingers inside the pie
messy and sticky they turn
pulling them out will turn a disaster,
letting them like that propels
a helplessness, I face both
with a dilemma,

From doing every other thing
feel having done nothing
an emptiness I find around
a folly I am into unknowingly
I stay wide awake almost
through day and night.