.

Johnathan Urbalonis

poet of old

Mississauga, Canada

a poet.

Police state

Mar 11, 2022 2 years ago

I woke up with sound of sirens, I'd place as placebo, the day it had ran on my television screen what humanity was subjected to. The nonplus feeling of how to act properly, with endowment of what seamed heavy blankets and latent power accruing the sprockets and cogs of city… A something taken for granted in shrouded fear. Something to deal with later typology. Something reminiscent of bad feelings that which were the stretch of materialism that went in shock alike the pronouncement that we had been seasoned with something called CO-VID - our new opus of terror.
It spread through the city. Items in stores hesitated to fluctuate in price. As if moving towards a phantom tipping point that we all expected in which we'd be looting and robbing. The concern was mostly overhead, something somewhat with itinerary. The television sets and radio receivers spread lancets of numbers on records of those affected with the tallies: deaths and cases.. no mention of the effects unto as ripples of the illness and hardships, which were to confer with infected civilians.
I saw it once… shaped like a sphere with covered with devious taut mushrooms. Molecules dancing slowly and sinister on the screen. I couldn't help but try to break up the bits of data like a professor of science - to secure my evident edge, and ascertain a knowledgeability of the anomalous invaders with a yoke of purity as to not be burdened… acting in essence of discernment that as it meant by CO, was: someone else; and VID, to watch a movie . What was given as safety to like minds. It sort of worked, yet it was ridiculous, and I furrowed with it like a well kept secret… keeping my eyes peeled…
The first sign of the pandemic concurrent with my skepticism was the sight of a patio lounge boarded up with tarps and bungee chords… it didn't really have but note, that an almost- military type state was being spread. Like those old war films showing soldiers taking cover. All of a sudden remembering i've been bundled and am now wearing a mask… a touch of talk spread about SARS and what had congealed profusely. a gangrene of city life in distillation The second major inference of the virus attached itself upon my entry into a hospital shortly after the outbreak. Calm, relatively to what i was expecting. I received a nominal vaccine, although it was not in my plan to get one. 
This expenditure of hospitality was similar to me that of another time and common place: crouching in the attic, sterility; dodging passing soldiers, tarrying of officials; awaiting bomb sirens, when to be called; and hopelessness, general service. 

I found the numbers reassuring. I found they were changing as with the people, and mask-personable creation-bent amour against the shroud of horror. Crowded in bus terminals ad hoc, no job, at home a lot, feeling blessed; perhaps not as much as should. I terribly felt invincible, yet not off kilter living as a troglodyte. As those with vaccines probably did - a badge as well as an alm. 

Soon I heard two tiers of the slump of commercialism and cuts to government offices offline status and/or segregation of infrastructure and familial breadth… not too far from the candidacy of what with moving relatively quick as something foreseen somewhat was the crane-like Amazon.com spread the idea that North America was gestated with the movement of boxes and parcels, self-containment, and familiarization with tribe-like algorithms - you could say - as the virus had done a priori. A system drought was apparent. And if it matters… I ate canned ravioli and ramen noodles straight for half a year…
Probably the most searing temperance in my memory,
was the onset that I weather of anxiety - a disability diagnosed around the outbreak of CO-VID. As aforementioned, although I was hopping back and forth to and from ‘Trillium Hospital' for treatment and care of what are called anxiety attacks. Acute bouts of extreme stress and tension - unlike anything I can explain - which were happening every few days or so.
As CO-VID convened, I swear, the numbers mapped a correlation between the occurrences of these anxiety attacks and times I had exposed myself to large crowds or briefly sat or stood with people - with loose conscience. I thought I had caught the virus, and the interplay of my psychological health was primarily at stake - being somewhat of a healthy person. At one point I was sutured in positively sure I was on the side of recovery at least even if my routine was dabbled with convex relations with the virus. After receiving the vaccine, I recall being humbled and was situating my priorities of a doubtful hypocrite to office an account of how to prepare for anxiety. As a misnomer possibly foreshadowing the occurrence in a sort of tumbler effect to house reason, and to possibly recess my mental disability. I feel the trauma has dolloped slowly and we're arriving to a point of clarity. If anything this event has made us stronger and secured the bonds we officiate with.

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