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By Elizabeth Estrada
Elizabeth Estrada is a multi-disciplinary artist from Los Angeles but currently resides in Berkeley, California. She specializes in painting and spoken word poetry. Her poems are inspired by the beauty and mystery of life. Her work includes themes of sexuality, vices, self empowerment, spiritualism, social issues, and more. You can find her on Instagram @wrapperliz.can I be late to judgment day?
or will that be added to my list of sins?
my words spill out like the gust of wind you barely felt because you were distracted,
Understood.
Age of disenchanted people digesting excess stimuli
I check my phone quickly at the table,
picking it up every minute need to quit it.
Psychologically addicting
Reward system in brain wants me to keep clicking and clicking
like a kid licking ice cream don’t want it to end yet it’s melting
feeling numb I succumb to the wobbly peace and imbalanced chaos
My reality is a seance sometimes with the person in the mirror
Real reflections lacking purposeful change
But atleast I exchanged likes and comments
It’s Monday I’m swiping Tuesday texting Wednesday checking Thursday notifying Friday frolicking through
fictitious realms
It’s judgment day and I’m late because I wanted a coffee filled with 15 grams of escape topped off with cream
that masks the bitter taste of my current state.
I got a text with no sound
do not disturb is on yet somehow I feel disturbed, that’s odd.
Like lights flickering in my body
I need to center myself but the patience to meditate is slipping from my fingertips
So I add glue just to peel not to use
I thought I was doing better Like more secure without society’s supposed cure
But it seems like I use all these things around me to cover up the void I’m drowning in.
It’s judgment day and God is reading my sins
One of them is being late and another is not wisely filling my plate
The commodity of time is something I don’t wanna waste
especially on quick dopamine fixes that will leave me feeling
vacant
absent of the sacred
Need to sit in the empty basement of my mind, but the stimuli latches
and now I’m craving quick dopamine patches
Want to ground, and sit, and ground, and sit, and ground.
Get lost in the nothingness
Be present in the Universes presence
choosing to inhale Gaia’s incense I exhale my manufactured mental agitation
It’s judgment day and God is giving me another chance to feel alive in her creation.
