Regression | Teen Ink


December 26, 2021
By j_rosen315 SILVER, Wantagh, New York
j_rosen315 SILVER, Wantagh, New York
7 articles 5 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"It's all a part of the human experience"

The strings of life are mangled and tangled.

Steering a course of intersections and emotional withdrawals.

My contextually dependent mind sees deja vu 

as the string tosses and crosses about over and over once more.

It fulfills its predetermined course of routine:

Awaken, drift, adhere, disappear, rework, try, and sleep.

The strands hold fatigue in this tiring monotony having

exhaustingly knotted in this series all too many times before.

There is a desire for more.

However, a loss sense of passion stands in the way to 

introspect on memory’s past to know what is in the way.

The once magical memories knitted in a quilt of teeming blue 

have greyed and the threads are ripped apart in malice and in haze.

They lie in sorrow on the floor and now stand as lost dreams 

evaporating towards unseeing distances far and far away.

However, I am obliged to seek refuge in a particular scene 

that frees me of my somber disposition.

When in this place of childhood forgiveness,

I find the strings of life unbounded and limitless 

as they explore the liberation of free spacely intuition. 

It is here where chemical atoms fly a little 

freer and my mind can wander at ease.

The unconscious ego swells in awe 

embracing the current condition of the beach.

In this space, the strings of life have expanded past 

the confining square of routine into a space 

unfamiliar to my human eye.

The strings of life place themselves in a world on

the fresh beaming night of July 4th. 

It is in darkness where fireworks 

malevolently streak across the sky like lightning. 

They are ravenous, feeding upon my admiration 

through bright spurts of light. 

Their subsequent golden roars slash across

the sky like a shooting star gone awry with the 

utmost sense of pride. 



In the forefront of the scene, the slenderly, twisted fingers 

of smoke from smoldering barbeque charcoals

eerily creep toward us admirable viewers, 

creating an impenetrable curtain of smog. 

It swallows the sky whole, making the moon a shadowy ghost of itself

as the young minded astronomers curse out in annoyance as they

attempt to adore the phase’s ethereal glow. 

The scene indulges my senses with an overwhelming afferent experience.

The smell produced by the burning embers fills my nostrils with an 

elusive sensation of summer’s sweet passionate affluence.

The grit of sand prickling against my skin allows me to feel one with 

Earth’s geological presence. I image myself as a scaly lizard or a snake

running across a rock to embrace the 

moon’s warm presence amidst the cold of night.

The light of a bonfire teases me in my peripheral 

as I run with the wind towards the shore.

The thin white sand dampens to a thicker paste against 

my feet as I arrive closer to the changing tides and rolling waves.

What once was used as white noise to help me sleep amidst 

my night light now deafens my ears with a hearty bellow.

The strings of life attached to my spirit sound out in dance 

and song upon the asynchronous boom of the waves. 

My mind knits itself a square of teeming blue to 

recall these moments of cool serendipity and tranquility.

Although these childhood memories offer a light 

of everlasting peace, they are nothing more than a 

distant memory I can no longer unlock in real time. 

Knowledge holds too power over my psyche.

I can no longer find independence in light of the 

waves. I too much seek the presence of another I do not 

have to validate my sense of being. I envy those of blissful

 ignorance; as does the strings of life currently mangled 

and tangled in an overwhelming plight of hurt and unforgivingness.

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