Theres a circle cycle of sides to the self of me

Standing in the middle surveying my surroundings

Noting each application and the consequences that apply

Maybe I'm simply a hedonist
Weighting for worn out pleasure centers to take a flame

Or an optimistic pessimist
Citing my self for the blame  

My humanistic approach has lost appeal

Defying my superego
And hierarchy of needs reel

Stuck in Erickson stages
A psychodynamic underground war rages

There's a linear graph
Self sided to me

Maybe I'm projecting all my insecurities
And taking my abnormalities
Out on maladaptive poetry

I decided to ride the slide sideways

Letting my feet hang over

And one edge guide my neck

I went straight down for a second or two

But with my eyes to sky
I didn't worry

Rather, I just enjoyed the view

I doubt
material wealth
means anything
in the afterlife
on the off chance
that I'm wrong
bury me
with my books
and my plastic owl.