That Interloper is My Therapist!

My therapist is the most expensive meal that I’ve ever purchased in my life.

I mean, she’s the copy of my reflection.

I mean, she’s the only one that pisses me and I don’t care.

She has coffee breath.

My therapist says I’m negative,

But I told my therapist that my mind is a darkroom.

That I have a tough time explaining the pictures.

My therapist says that I have self-destructive tendencies,

That I take things the wrong way.

What she really means is,

The last time she performed a test on me,

She found an asylum of malignant explosions ready to destroy everybody.

I told my therapist that I’m very indecisive,

That I have a tough time making decisions.

That my mouth is a velvet rope for the things I can’t take back.

This velvet rope throws moons like a concierge for my regrets.

So I go to therapy because I treat silence as a first language,

But my therapist said I speak fluently.

What she means is,

I talk in small circles and by small circles,

She means I talk in big circles and by big circles,

She means targets and by targets,

She means I wear my victims like a brand new pair of shoes.

But I never told my therapist,

That I have to borrow my mother’s tongue to say certain things.

I have to set her tongue out of a pool of blood in liquor to say things like,

Depression.

Cherish.

Adoration.

Blood.

You know – synonyms.

I told my therapist that my dad had a thing where he stuff’s all of our bones.

In a bottle and he drank the spirits out of his family.

Why are you asking me about my family?

They are ghosts now.

They are gone.

They are surfing on my flesh,

And I’m on the shoreline waving them – “Hello!”

Bipolar depression is the birthmark I use to distinguish my bloodline with.

I’ve never told my therapist that I had polite suicide attempts.

I don’t leave cryptic Facebook messages.

I just cut my wrist and bleed poems.

I told my therapist that she said I have self-destructive tendencies.

So I finally decided what kind of combustion I am.

I am a controlled demolishing,

Cleaning my wreckage with a bucket of vodka and a mop.

I told my therapist that I’ve really had a tough time explaining my emotions.

She said, “but you’re a poet.”

I said, “just because I have words doesn’t mean I know how to communicate.”

Everybody needs someone to talk to.

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Where is she now?

She left the world leaving a letter around.

She said it was okay,

She said life was hell and better in the other room.
Could she be in hell because murder is a deadly sin?

Or in heaven because she deserved it?

Why did she have to go?

She didn’t deserve all that pain in her soul.


She didn’t deserve to feel alone

Why did she have to feel so cold?

I feel this way but still I say.

“Why?!”
Suicide…

The world says it depicts weakness like tears from a person’s eyes.

But if you knew and felt her pain inside,

You would realize how badly she wanted to die.


“She was selfish,”

But if anything, 

She was selfless.

Because she stood through the pain so long for people to go on.

Where are they now?


Hers was a cry of a teenager in a hell hole,

“Let’s leave her to her demons,
It couldn’t be that serious. 

Her life may just be a joke.”

Till we woke up one morning, and she didn’t.


 Everyone feigned shock,

“But she always seemed happy. What could have made her kill herself?”

We all pretend to have cared,
Because only then, would we have a clear conscience.
But we remain accomplices to suicide.

(RE-BLOGGED)

The great feast is finished, the banquet hall deserted. The shadows lengthening towards night. The broad canopy of heaven holds a silver footed moon. And stars in their course,the oil lamps are slowly expiring. Insidious death tenaciously approaching With darkness and deep silence.the oil lamps Are flickering laboring for breath,for a drop of oil Trying […]

via inexplicable torment — yaskhan

NORMALCY

 

Men screaming ‘freedom’ while paying taxes.

Women wanting equality by voting men.

A taxi driver treks home.

A transsexual wins ‘Woman of the Year’ award.

A Head of State chills abroad and becomes the President of Chile.

A child with homosexual parents.

Lawmakers breaking the law.

Representatives in scandals.

Students of law dare not talk about rights.

A teenager is paid to tweet.

An oil-producing country lacks oil.

A Blackman in the White House.

A foreign-reliant ‘Giant of Africa.’

A bankrupt banker.

An unemployed job analyst.

A pregnant nun.

Dead poets.

Holy wars.

Pornography.

Chaos! Order!! Crises!!!

Peace.

Our Twenty-first century.

 

Original work by Ameh Samuel. Permission for a rework was granted.