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seranaeaPoems
- oh, considerate counselors~ i fear the scars of your instruction will never erode, even after i melt down your mental tarbabies with a solution that i hope will make them chemically dissolve away, leaving nothing but your staples. what was it really ? hyperactivity, autism, anomalies of perception, social detachment, maybe— a _Gift_ ? well, i guess it would not have made a difference, everybody knew of this but                                   ___me-___ patching up my gray matter mistakes with remedies permanently cemented between impressionable foldings i feel this cure like masonry damming where free-flowing thoughts that ride upon streams into oceans were supposed to have discharged naturally, stopping me from causing my summers to mix with everybody else's winters (or vise versa). you see, my natural configuration would have sated for me what would —in turn— infuriate others, thus the picket around me was built sufficiently lofty so i would never grow tall enough to oversee it. these days i often mistaken this perimeter for bricks that line the inside of a well, complete with a leaky bucket swinging overhead, _beyond my reach—_ of all things an adult child could ever want for Christmas, the removal of what now prohibits true potential these _things_ they instilled into me so i could not violate the principals of conventional wisdom in their day— but this is __My Day__ now ! and dead counselors need not protect their world from __Me__ anymore ! and this _Gift_ ? it continues drifting conspicuously aloft in my gray ocean— a Divine Gratuity that remains —to this day— unsuitable for redemption... s jones © 2020 .
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Nov 10, 2020
Nov 10, 2020 at 7:06 AM UTC
conventional therapy
- oh, considerate counselors~ i fear the scars of your instruction will never erode, even after i melt down your mental tarbabies with a solution that i hope will make them chemically dissolve away, leaving nothing but your staples. what was it really ? hyperactivity, autism, anomalies of perception, social detachment, maybe— a _Gift_ ? well, i guess it would not have made a difference, everybody knew of this but                                   ___me-___ patching up my gray matter mistakes with remedies permanently cemented between impressionable foldings i feel this cure like masonry damming where free-flowing thoughts that ride upon streams into oceans were supposed to have discharged naturally, stopping me from causing my summers to mix with everybody else's winters (or vise versa). you see, my natural configuration would have sated for me what would —in turn— infuriate others, thus the picket around me was built sufficiently lofty so i would never grow tall enough to oversee it. these days i often mistaken this perimeter for bricks that line the inside of a well, complete with a leaky bucket swinging overhead, _beyond my reach—_ of all things an adult child could ever want for Christmas, the removal of what now prohibits true potential these _things_ they instilled into me so i could not violate the principals of conventional wisdom in their day— but this is __My Day__ now ! and dead counselors need not protect their world from __Me__ anymore ! and this _Gift_ ? it continues drifting conspicuously aloft in my gray ocean— a Divine Gratuity that remains —to this day— unsuitable for redemption... s jones © 2020 .
#detachment#perception#onesizefitsall
seranaea
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seranaea
Nov 10, 2020
Nov 10, 2020 at 7:06 AM UTC
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