I’m thinking so hard I can’t listen.
In the moment I’d like to laugh
-but reality won’t allow it.
Steep in seriousness,
in deep trouble,
rather be safe than sorry.
Yet I’m Unable to get over myself,
to speak properly,
be heard.
Feeling forced into a corner,
crying out for other options,
because some things could be avoided.
Taking the moments as they pass
in a place where control
is thinning in my face. . .
What a disgrace,
I am taking place
in the madness.
A therapeutic level
of Side Effects
and I try to be direct.
The fear takes hold,
I cannot be labeled
as uncooperative.
I want everything to work out
as I lie to myself.
I must be wrong
and unworthy of the chance
to be well by choice.
I don’t care about history.
I don’t care about science.
I don’t care about statistics.
I don’t care about studies.
I don’t care about intervention.
I care about convention.
I care about personality.
I care about simplicity.
I care about creation.
I care about the moment.
If I ever felt a listening ear lost, it was there
Within The Walls that were meant for healing.
So I’m still left dealing
with an unstable feeling.
The remedy for the remedy,
he said to me, is chemical.
Pills formed in an amber bottle
that created the problem to begin with.