"psychoanalyst" poems
It seems these antihistamines
Are causing reoccurring dreams
For every time I go to bed
The same old scene is in my head
Like the one where all my teeth fall out
As I sit and pluck them out of my mouth
This one causes a lot of strife
For I've had this dream my entire life
So I searched for answers everywhere
And this is what they had to share
The native said it signifies
Remorse I feel from telling lies
Which I guess would be appropriate
I tend to say things I regret
So I went to see a medium
To trace back where this all begun
We tried to get mister Jung
But as the Latin rolled off her tongue
To our surprise
Before our eyes
Stood the spirit of Sigmund Freud
Claiming I need *** to fill the void
A conversation I'd rather avoid
Needless to say we ended the spell
I gave her my paycheck and bid farewell
And as I exited out to the street
I almost hung my head in defeat
But the natives words came back to me
Bringing a sudden epiphany
It occurred to me as I was walking
I really need to just stop talking.
Perhaps I'll be a silent monk
To help me get out of this funk
But that just sounds absurd
I can figure out how this problem incurred
I don't need to see a therapist
Or invoke a psychoanalyst
I will just continue on my quest
Until I obtain some dreamless rest
I'm sure I can find the connection
By immersing in more self-reflection
So when I go to bed tonight
I'll study my dreams with all my might!!
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 4:46 PM UTC
I can't remember the last time
Where I looked you in the eyes
And simply said what's on my mind.
It seems every time I'd lie;
Taking another chip from your heart
And placing it in my shark shaped
Piggy bank.
You called me out and I ran away with my words
Down another trodden path
Of familiar verbal catastrophe
When all you wanted was me.
Well if that's all you wanted
I guess I should start from the top.
I'm sorry but I think I'm leading you on. I'm apologize for coming on way too strong in the beginning. But I feel afraid all alone with no comfort from close friends, just media drones. I keep you around for the *** however convenient, yet I can't stand the shape of your forehead, nose, or neck. I want to take away your breath, if not for the moment so you don't speak, then for the mornings when all I want you to do is leave my bed. I'm so insecure. My character faults tumble down the rabbit hole like a bead of sweat wet from my hairline on my head to my hairline in the crevice of my rear end. I still pick my nose and sometimes eat it fearing that if I don't that I'll feel cheated. I convince myself there are starving kids in Africa; kids who would do anything for a meal that they would endanger there body in the form of human trafficking. I'm selfishly selfish. I come out with personal gains for every favor in my friends' names. My *** ***** hangs but not as low as the average, a trait I think most females would laugh at. I have trouble saying "I love you" to my mother because deep down I feel troubled that she would just ridicule me for having feelings for another like she did when I was twelve. I consistently lie through my perfect teeth that hide the grime and cavities that I do keep. I feel like I should somehow be embarrassed and express all of thoughts to a psychoanalyst. But they would make me tell the truth which seems to be the most difficult thing I could do.
When all I want to do is lie to you.
And keep you on a fish line
Because I like the way our bodies intertwine physically.
Just please stop asking me what on my mind
Because honestly, you really don't want to know.
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 9:42 PM UTC
being made physically and mentally ill
by the excuses of my fellow country-people
so many prescription placeboes
psychoanalyst ********
and million$ on useless therapy….
and for what?
I get it:
you were molested
parents sold your *** to the neighbors
**** in the baby bottle
there are reasons folks suffer
but not every stress is a reason to medicate
sometimes the struggle and it’s lessons
are the reason for the experience
or has American society forgotten that tidbit?
So many wannabe doctors
telling friends and loved ones
that they are dealing with PTSD and ADHD
sprinkled with STD’s
in reality,
humans have always experienced stress
our ability to recognize it
and conceive of alternative ways of being
is likely the hub to our evolutionary journey
now what?
Fat, lazy, pill-popping excuse monsters
on every corner
on every channel,
the new norm….
maybe I need a pill to deal with these ******* –
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 5:56 PM UTC
My neighbor has advised more roughage.
"Healthy bowels will keep illness away."
My therapist says group will do it.
"Share your stories with those who relate."
My doctor gave me a script for ******
"Call me when these run out."
My muse sings urgently into my ear.
"Keep writing, we'll get there, no doubt!"
My friend tells me more prayer is the ticket.
"Talk with God and you won't be afraid."
But my sister (the French psychoanalyst) tells me simply,
"You need to get laid!"
now i've tried the vegetables, they are tasty to eat
and the group i found, well it's just down the street
the prescription's been filled, and easily (twice!)
my pen keeps me writing long into the night
and prayer brings me answers, my truths come to light
but this last advice has left me in stitches
you see, its been such a very long time
would someone direct my feet, and,
please tell me, where do i get some of that?
(and now she dissolves, into fits of hysterical laughter)
Oct 11, 2011
Oct 11, 2011 at 12:06 AM UTC