Ink Blot @Daveny

I’m afraid of the doctors and offices

Any kind of sterile medicinal, psychological practices.

Afraid of their stethoscope and certificates

Afraid of all the years they’ve spent studying.

Lifting up the paper with octopus juice meticulously patterned on the page

Afraid of being asked:

“What do you see?”

Afraid of describing all the scenes: the battles and the power. The struggle just to suffer.

The vulnerable yarns that keep me together. Showing the patches in my sanity. My subjugated tolerance. My disservice to my conscience. The injustices to humanity. The murders and the plights. The sound of destructive children crying. The beating of a hopeless heart. The context of  cynical tragedies. The bloody oppression that lubricates the many. The yelling, the shouting, the gnawing off my own limbs.

Then Dr. Lay-it-bare says

“You’re fine my dear, you won’t need to come again.”