Confusion of Clarity

recently started new meds and am processing their effects, poetry has always helped me make sense of things

Once this was a crowded room

Echoing with too many thoughts to grasp

Each one loudly 

     (or softly)

fading in or out at a will

unrelated to my own

I’d be at the mercy

    of their comings and goings

regardless of the pace of 

the world

around me

loud loud loud loud

constant constant constant constant

AlarM alarM! ALARM!

And now?

Well, I’m still adjusting to

the space to breathe

and orderliness

   (and time to think)

where I can move around

without getting assaulted

by my own thoughts

and inner workings

No echoes

  only furniture

No spirals

  only windows

Now what?

  Open doors?

I look back at my phone

at the apps and games

this assortment that was once

my self-constructed framework of

white-knuckle functioning

and now

I sit at a vast table in a space

with enough room,

space enough to hear myself think

-and-

space enough to be here

and these little escape routes

just don’t have the same appeal

is this the redirect

towards physical?

Where I might have the 

focus and clarity required to

take my art

seriously?

In the absence of inner chaos

I find the sound of my own steps

haunting