Leather seats and fluorescent lighting
Dressed up insight deigned as wisdom when it's
Nothing more than cheap talk
White noise that fills the time with a shallow stare
Sitting with no real new ideas
No experience to relate to
Yet you dare to call this therapy

For years I endure this
I'm told that it will help
He can deduce the cause of my idiosyncrasies
As if being different is a disease
Failing to find a way to truly help
Letting this anger and frustration boil
like a bitter stew
This is not  my therapy

My therapy lies in a sea of strangers
Dead center of the crowd, a clearing appears
It is there I find my release
Leaping in, I make eyes with a stranger
Without words, a deal is made
A pact that is honored for the sole reason
That we understand each other
We are each other's therapists

Charging forward, we collide
The pain numbed by soundwaves and adrenaline
Like a bullet off of Superman, we ricochet
Our bodies meet that of another
They shove us away but it is welcome
Time disappears
Lost in these moments
The most physical of therapies

Our bodies become busted and broken
The pain is welcome
With each collision, each shove, we find release
Anger dissipates with each bruise
Each crack of flesh on flesh, bone against bone
Lets loose a wave of pent-up hostility
It a balloon popping with a smile
This sought out violence is not aggression
This is compassion of the highest caliber

Complete strangers
Locking eyes and saying, I am here
Release your fury upon upon me
Without judgement, I can assist you
You place your life in this figure's hands
Because they are willing to do the same
You know that they will makes sure you survive
And the wall of people behind you
A group of people will make sure you do not fall
And ask for nothing in return

And once the night ends
You relish the aches
Every bruise is a battle scar
From a war that you know is not yet over
But for now, you march away
Until your next session
Of Mosh Therapy