mental health

Doctor Doctor

cigarette burnsunder the sheets the temporary bee stingsof random needlings pinpoint pricks purposely playedbait for a loon’s scratchings mad reveries in broad daydraw attention to comic despair Oh Doctor DoctorCan’t you see me burning burningCan’t you see me burn?

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Devil’s Waltz

Looks like we’ll dance once more,brother-in-arms.My accoutrements are lacking,now,and I must bear this bareness.Tear off a strip,if you will,or make the unkindest cut.But knowthat I’ve developed a tastefor immolation.

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I’m a frayed knot

Muffled. The world cannot get in. I can’t get out. A purchased illness to assuage another. Recycled thoughts, boring in their dirtiness. I devise a fool’s plan to use this tedium. A grand flourish. Since I have no sword, I’ll untie the Gordian Knot.

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On my way

In a while, maybe, I will not know you. Don’t cry or be afraid when you do not know me. There’s a short story yet to be told, and it begins its writing, protected by pillows. Even as I stand over a tiled drain, I make the water hotter. That spinal rush. That warming touch.

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