The Haven
Published in

The Haven

Out of Focus

seesawing

Photo by Patrick on Unsplash

I’m in the middle of nothing. Wedged in an elevator between 3.2 and 4.8 th floor. The emergency is in progress. I was doing fine in a dim light. Till the light started playing disco. Crumbling to the floor in slow motion. As my eyes popped out to, the magnified floor. With the final thought to…

Jack in a box mocks me?

“I believe, the motionless, dead elevator, is a cause for my endurance.” When I woke up in some hospital bed. With this single thought. Then further followed it, to cursing the elevators disco lights. With NO MUSIC.

As would have been kept, from collapsing. By an unexpected jig.

Motion Sickness

It is a disorder. That has a prisoner, in every home. There is no history of slavery, of our ancestry. It swallows you, in motion. By any mode. Car, ship, plane or rail. Did not exploit KICKBOARD???

I’ve been a victim all along. As a small fry, I was plagued with it. Nobody in my family has, inherited him. I’m that black swan with broken wings. Beautiful hilly landscapes, amusement parks and adventure sports. Caused it to my crumble, untidy, creased list. Competing to my forehead creases.

“The medical profession”, makes us look damaged.
“Your brain works on green signals from the ears, eyes, muscles and joints.”When there is a struggle for dominance between whispering, sighting, & the carriage of your body? Our psyche is baffled.

The vibe is definitely from a, malignant spirit. Stomping us in vertigo, dribbling, wobbly, disgusting, tuckered out & unresponsive. In several words, leaves you like a puppet with a leash in the hands of the chauffeur.

People are filled with guidance. Naturopathy, Ayurvedic, Homeopathic, Allopathic. Nothing works. The exclusive thing that works is, hear with your ears & drain it out with, Drainex.

After being a trophy winner. In an argument,”The damaged caused to our psyche. By this lethal disease. ” I contend that we have a slippery mix-up, on “Motion Sickness.”

No match with Newton’s outdated, three laws of motion. That energized the hamstrings. But understand the law of motion with the wheels of the vehicle shaking our foundations.

1st Thrust: It’s a Stage of boldness. When you are ready to deal with pain, even when your stomach tickles you from inside. Where the fart turns into a burp. To this, speed is insignificant while your bravery comes to foreplay. In short, you’re ready for electrocution without anyone’s knowledge in the electric wheelchair.

2nd Thrust: You wave goodbye in the face of gravity. In this, the stomach is transformed into rotating wheel. Making you feel standing on a seesaw. Sometimes you lift red flags by farting and letting your mates know. While the rest of the journey, you’re just going to swallow your words and fart because of being a spoiler in the tribe.

3rd Thrust: You end up saying bye bye to the whole world. In my case I always have a sealed envelope in my drawer. Saying, “If you have reached till here that means I have become invisible.” No matter what speed & angle you’re sitting on, it makes you watch things upside down version. Making you appear through the, “Alice’s looking glass.” Manufacturing you in vomiting on everyone, ripping their eardrums with your volcanic farts plus howls & giving passerby on the road an illusion of abduction.

I’m at the bottom of the ditch. Where bumpy, circled, potholes, speedsters on the road, let me sink in the whirlpool. I built a pathway to fight out my illness with my innovative methods.

My idle, stationary, exercise, bike came to my rescue. To synchronize my eyes and head, I broke into a shed and stole a few blinkers. I mounted a saddle back, on the seat. Which kept me oscillating. As a freebie, I got toned with a bruised bum.

Petrol & Diesel, mitt buddies. Caused my heart to bury. I found a way out, I turned it into a bio deodorant. I sprinkled it at my house every day. Practiced yoga breathing drills, for infusion.

Technological advances have kicked my butt. The scrolls on the TV whacked me in the brain. I found an escape route. I used black tape, vertical and horizontal, to counter their intellect.

Long phone conversations gross me out. It starts feeding me a headache. I started talking on speaker mode. But the thing is, I don’t have a private conversation. Rather than a pair of ears, there are several pairs attached.

Skyscrapers, elevate their position. Leaving me like a rotating wheel. As a countermeasure to this. I did a virtual course with Giraffe. He declined to cooperate, leaving me high & dry.

I chose to break my “No Entry” line. “Hilly area,” left me with vomiting echoes. “Adventure sports”, touching the sky, or striking deep water. The two of them shot at me. Leaving me like a frog with hysterical screams, making cookie-cutter leaps. “Amusement joy rides” I still question who named him? For me its dying on the vine without a bloody sip of cherry wine.

Two express trains on the telly. Makes me visualize in the 3-D avatar, shattering my head. Sunglasses & earplugs, never welcome me. They leave fingerprints all over my ears. Attacking him in-house and out- house. Then, leaving my forehead like a pitch for red ants, on biting grief.

I’m still pinned down in an elevator. Which says, ”Only For Handicaps.”

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