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PSYCHOTHERAPY AND ECSTASY

May 10, 2018

Psychotherapy and ecstasy,

Or else a coward and cowardly acts.

Bravery, just like gold,

Or else silver: a shield of silver.

 

Enamoured, by the spirits,

I know it doesn’t matter.

But I won’t see you again,

Not in heaven, nor in hell.

 

A café: no drinks are served,

But music’s played, at a low volume.

Barely audible, I sit alone,

But this door doesn’t open.

They’re countless, these doors,

This door’s blocked, the sole.

So I turn. I head back,

To anywhere, I head back.

There’s no home waiting,

I’ll remain where I fall.

 

Head heavy. Stare straight ahead,

Never deviate. Look both ways …. no:

Impossible. I don’t understand this dialect,

A dialect of my own language.

They speak strangely, fast,

They say little that matters.

It’s all rudimentary,

Two holidays in three days.

I head south,

Could have easily gone north.

East and west is excess,

But, I’ve got to get out of town.

 

The dust’s settled,

All’s forgotten.

Long forgotten,

Was I ever even here?

I recognise faces,

The unpainted walls.

Unpainted for years,

One day we’ll be enclosed.

By mesh and railing,

But the date’s not set.

 

Daughter infuriated by mother,

Mother, cancer ridden.

Bitten by a bug,

Smoking one last cigarette.

Doing one last line,

I live in movie theatres.

 

The price is always low,

I just quit my day job.

It stands in the way of love,

And, I sometimes worked nights.

They assaulted me there,

With verbal barrages.

I took care, and love,

It’s a simple task.

And I’ve love for my work,

It opens doors wide.

I’ll remain in this field,

This thankless field, for here I am.

 

Working holiday. At home I stay,

I never leave town.

There’s nothing to see out there,

I’ve read the books, and all’s the same.

A palace here or there,

A coffee in hobo squalor.

Disgusting, but I like the décor,

And the regulars at the counter.

It’s cold in here,

No light enters.

The coffee doesn’t warm me,

I’m mute here.

 

Yes: I initiated this conversation,

But I don’t respond to you.

It’s been a long, errant day,

More than my order, not necessary.

Don’t bore me,

They bore me at organised events.

One for you, one for you, madam,

Advice from one unworthy.

 

They line up and wait,

For directions that are not forthcoming.

I know not the way,

Elderly couple lost.

This pleases me,

They don’t belong here.

Go home. We’ll call for you there,

You’ve long forgotten me.

I’ve forgotten you,

Of course: you look the part.

 

Where is she?

She bringing in wealth.

She wouldn’t volunteer,

She’s much to do.

A life to lead,

A cherished day with childhood friend.

The same park and slide,

On high, with westward views.

Walking, arms linked ….

Someone else was there, with camera.

He is a silent partner,

An invisible witness.

 

Cocoa with breakfast,

Chicory and other indian flavours.

Miscellany and poetry,

Short poems. Midday meddlings.

I work before the day’s depart,

I’m still wiping sleep from my eyes.

But, I work hard, as I do,

Half elongated. Bad posture.

 

Midnight ramblings,

I cry out in the night.

So that others may hear,

I like to be known.

And I’m well protected here,

In an upper loft.

High ceilinged room,

With cobwebs in upper corners.

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