In the mists of my agony
I begged to stop breathing
Then I found myself here in endless purgatory

Every few months I find myself in the same parking lot
At the same laundromat
In the same parking space
Listening to the same melancholy music
Smoking out of the same bowl
But always having new conversations, never seeing the same two people

You walk in, noticing every obvious trap set
To make you crawl from that shell and open the conversation,
Then you sit
They must make a truth serum that they spray on those couches in the shrinks office
Because they make you spill your guts
Not more than a minute after sitting down it set in
I have to talk now
The water works started and I couldn’t shut them down
“There’s tissues to the left take your time”
The words are like tug of war and your tongue is winning concealing them in shame the embarrassment of feeling
Every sentence is broken up like a child learning to talk
The session passes in what seems an eternity as if the door was a portal to say the twilight zone
The minuets turn to centuries as sweat pools around you
Is this recovery?