Mindscapes: A Poetry Anthology
By: Talia Flanzraich
I welcome you to follow my art IG @taliascreations331 to view my artwork.
My book: “Up and Down the Ladder” is available on Amazon:
https://www.amazon.ca/Up-Down-Ladder-Talia-Flanzraich/dp/B09T82YL4P
TRIGGER WARNINGS: Bullying, anxiety, harassment, depression, anger issues, weight issues, verbal abuse, COVID-19, friendship problems, and binge eating problems.
Introduction
When I was two years old, I was diagnosed with High Functioning Autism. I didn’t speak until I was four years old. Living with Autism has been both a blessing and a curse for me. Having Autism means I have a huge imagination, a knack for words and language, a kind and genuine nature, and an appreciation for the little things life gives. Having Autism also means I’ve been subjected to bullying and abuse which has greatly impacted my mental health. When I was eleven years old, I was diagnosed with GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder). Throughout my entire youth, I struggled with a binge eating disorder that negatively affected both my mental and physical wellbeing. Food became my narcotic of choice, something to numb myself from all the emotional anguish I had.
For many years, I’ve used poetry and visual arts to express my emotions. I believe that writing poetry and making art has had a powerful healing effect on me, and it continues to help me work through my emotions and challenge my negative thoughts. Sometimes, I have a hard time talking about my feelings, so I channel all my sadness, anger, and frustration into my creative work. I feel more confident, happier, and at peace when I am making art and writing poetry. Without writing poetry and making art, I don’t know where I’d be today. It has literally improved my quality of life.
I have some mental health and autism poems I’d like to share with you.
Alien Girl
No one wanted me!
All the kids kept me inside
a small prison box.
Journals, books, and toys
were my friends I could speak to
at recess and lunch.
Friendships were useless;
Friends would melt like oil
and burn out fast.
The kids were people,
I was not a real person;
I was a martian.
I despised recess;
Recess was like attending
a mandated club.
Schoolmates hated me.
I became the black sheep of
each young family.
Loneliness changed me;
It made me a gift
that no one wished for.
My Voice Was My Sword
There once lived a young lady named Talia. I was tall like a medium-sized bookshelf, brunette as a coffee bean and my lips were red as strawberry-flavoured Jelly-Belly’s. My skin was light like peaches and cream, but was sometimes as tanned as sand dunes. I was puffy like a mammoth beach ball, but rough like a silver marble bench.
I was red as blood,
who became hot like flaming fire;
Poof! I exploded!
I used my voice as a sword. I was hurt by other people’s voices, so now I owned the same type of sword as the bullies used to make me bleed and burn inside. The words were as painful as migraines, twisted ankles and bee stings. I injured people with my inner sword. I made them bleed and burn inside, because I was bleeding and burning inside.
My voice was my sword;
It was sharp and pointy
like a butcher knife.
The Same Game With The Same Pieces
It was the same game
I played with them.
We used the same pieces
and game board.
Either way around,
they never won this game.
I reached the finish line
way before they did.
I was the winner,
they were the losers.
They were slow as snails
and I was fast as a bunny.
I was the first to grab
my own golden ticket.
I left the game feeling like
a champion who kept playin' and playin'.
Swimming In My Own Mental Filth
When I’m moody,
it’s like I’m drowning,
floating and swimming
in a vast sea of
filthy, stinky, polluted and
black onyx water.
The sea is as dark
as the nights sky
and cold like snow.
Depression is
like swimming in
my own mental filth.
When I’m hurt and angry,
I swim in a swamp
of my own salty tears.
It’s like an inundation
of my tears I’m spilling
onto the wooden floors.
I swim,
float and drink
my own poisonous chemicals
I’ve produced inside of me.
My home becomes
a lonely forest
with little crimson puddles.
My bedroom turns into
a massive cold black river
I’ve hopped right into.
Squishy As A Pillow
I was so chubby
that I became
squishy as a pillow.
Someone could sleep on me
and use my stomach
as a jumbo pillow.
T-shirts and jeans
were so tight they
stuck to my body
like Trident gum.
I was so rotund
that I became
squishy as a pillow.
I was a human plush toy
that one could use
to hug me and play with.
My belly was bouncy
like a mini trampoline
that fingers could bounce on.
I had a double chin
and my neck was
unidentifiable.
Sweet Tooth
I was a sweet tooth
who couldn't stop craving
candies, cookies, ice cream and cake.
It was an addiction that
I wanted to stop
but I was unable to.
The aroma of sugar
made me drown in
my own pool of syrup.
The sight of ice cream
made me freeze
like an igloo.
I was consumed with
sweets and sugar
like I was about
to go on an edible drug overdose.
It was perilous
like smoke penetrating
my brain, belly, and throat.
The sound of cookies baking
made me run to the kitchen.
The touch of goopy custard
made me sticky like taffy.
The sweet smack of chocolate
made my stomach roar
like a lion in the jungles of Africa.
I was a sweet tooth
who couldn't stop thinking about
Oreo cookies, hot fudge sundaes, Dairy Queen blizzards and cotton candy milkshakes.
Artificial sugar was my narcotic
that made me high as a kite
and stoned as a rock.
I’m Worn Out
I'm worn out
like ripped, smelly, unclean,
and nasty shirts.
Sugar-coating my disability
is mentally and emotionally draining.
I'm fed up
with feeling
like a cheap piece of garment.
I know
the full truth,
so why does my mind
keep fibbing to me?
I'm worn out
like faded hair dye.
Setting high standards
for myself
takes up so much energy,
I'm not even kidding.
I'm fed up
with molding myself
too much,
just so I can
avoid making mistakes,
and losing friends.
I'm worn out,
I'm frustrated,
I'm baffled,
I'm about to collapse,
and lose my breath!
Autism is a part of me,
and it's a sacred
part of my identity.
I need to stop
masking
and villainizing it.
Peasant
I had this strong feeling
brewing inside of me
for days, weeks, months,
hours, seconds, and minutes.
I knew
deep down in my soul
that something needed
to be resolved.
The long-awaited day came
quick as Woody Woodpecker.
I found the solution
I’ve been fishing for
tirelessly.
Mindfully,
focusing on the end goal,
I walked to my farm,
grabbed my gardening tools,
and began to plant seeds
of courage, confidence, and freedom.
I watched those seeds
turn into lean,
tall, peaceful, and nourished plants
of courage, confidence, and freedom.
Once these plants grew,
slim, trim, and gorgeous,
I told myself
that this abusive friendship
needed to come to a halt,
before I’d go bonkers.
After taking one little peak
at my plants
of courage, confidence, and freedom,
I unlocked the gates
of hell,
and ran off.
I joyously
took off
my peasant uniform,
and threw it
in the swamp.
I’m glad
I’m no longer
the peasant
she made me be
when I was her friend.
Peasantry
was like being shackled,
not being able
to stand my ground
when necessary.
Distant Apologies
I’m truly sorry
If I threw
our precious friendship
down the dirty drain.
I’m truly sorry
you believed
I slammed the doors
in your face.
There were things
you did that
made me bleed inexorably,
and I couldn’t
vocalize the excruciating pain
to you.
Yes,
I did things
in return,
because I was
severed, kicked, and punched
in the face and gut
with your words and actions.
My strength
was stolen.
I got it back
and I’m grateful for that.
My peace
was snatched from me.
I’ve reclaimed it
and nobody
will take it from me,
ever!
You deserve
the benefit of the doubt.
You’ve earned back
my respect, dignity, and kindness.
That’s why
I want to give you
a distant apology.
Emergency! I’m Having A Panic Attack
The same black chants
play inside my noisy brain-
recorded voices.
I listen to them
as I breathe like a jogger,
sweating with great fear.
My body is hot
and red as chili;
very sick and tired.
I grapple to breathe,
think, talk, and walk-
I'm mentally frail.
Come on, come on, quick!
It's a big emergency
and I can't operate!
Socially Starved
My psyche
was grumbling
incessantly.
I’ve been
hungry and socially starved
for several weeks.
Like a confined dog,
I’d bark and bark,
until I was stuffed
from loads of attention.
My bones, toys, blanket,
and kibble wasn’t enough
to fill me up.
It felt fantastic
to finally
unlock my dog cage.
I was free
to feed my famished soul
with all my favourite people.
Some days,
I incessantly barked,
because I was
still socially starving
and couldn’t
curb my cravings.
Some days,
I stayed put
in my homey dog cage,
and cozied up
with my toys, kibble, bone,
and blanket.
I wasn’t a wild animal,
I was just
a socially starved dog
who was kept
in her cage
for too long.
Flummoxed
I don’t know which way
to turn, enter and exit,
because I’m lost in my
unlit and tangled labyrinth
that I still run around in!
Messages To Decode
Phrases
and words that are
cryptic codes I write out
read aloud and keep cracking in
my brain.
Boiling Water
When one lies to me
about someone I love
or something I’ve never done,
it hurts my consciousness.
It’s like pouring
a kettle of boiling water
onto my delicate head
and burning me with it.
Smoke
Anger is smoke
I inhale and exhale.
It’s an invisible cigarette
that I keep in my inner pocket.
I inhale the words, sounds, and thoughts,
and exhale the agony and displeasure.
Rat
They’d grab me
by the tail,
and throw me
in the trash can;
goodbye dirty rat!
Venomous Snakes
Different snakes
slithered around me,
as I’d stand
on the scaly grounds.
I’d freeze
like an iceberg,
staying afloat
in a wintry, ultramarine lake.
Every time
I wobbled,
quacked
meowed,
and hobbled,
I’d be bitten.
I’ve been plagued
and injured enough;
it’s about time
I run away
from those venomous snakes.
Blind
Being socially unaware
makes me feel blind.
I can’t wake up,
open the blinds,
and find the rising sun.
I feel like I’ve been stuck
in a pitch-black room,
unable to break free
from my insecurities.
