An Open Poem to My Former Therapist

© 2016 All Rights Reserved.

You think I isolate with my words?
My actions?
Screwed into that blabber box?
Did you learn something this week
From that hate-mongering,
pest infestering,
discombobulating and distorting
visual portrayal of life?

I cried this week.
Yeah, I cried.
Did you know?
Yeah, well probably cuz I isolate, right?

Guess what, I spoke to an avatar who was there.
Right there, in Dallas.
Did you speak to anyone who was right there?
Do you know anyone who does anything
to make
anything better
than the way things are?

Am I angry?
Yeah I’m angry!
Your head high in the clouds as if I should work harder,
As IF all I do is never enough,
As if my limitations should be surpassed!

Why, I should just invite folks over to, to…
Oh yeah, to watch me lay here and navigate my
World from a bed!
Yeah, that’s high on their calendar, baby!
I can’t imagine why there’s no waiting list for that one!

So what do I do?
I lay here, typing words and
Changing this bastardized world –
This world that thinks love is hoarding,
the life out of everything that’s weak.

Go for it world!
You got a Super Gecko to deal with –
I’m cute,
but I’m punchy;
have a long tongue;
a gargantuan bite!
Don’t laugh, dude.
You think this is a game.
It’s not, this is my life!

You watch some guy videotape the death of a cop,
Some woman videotape the death of her fiancé
Nothing. YOU DO NOTHING!!!
You’re an asshole for judging me,
an asshole.

I wrote a letter.
I didn’t just light a candle.
I wrote another letter, and another.
I called an old activist friend –
We strategized, we socialized, we cried.

Yeah, remember? I cried.
Do you even remember I said that?
What? Our time is up?
Continue next week?

Naw, I don’t think so…
This is a waste, more a waste than
My anti-social isolating virtual world
Shit of a life.

Remember, I’m angry – remember?
And they’re not saying,
“No Justice – No Peace” moron –
They’re saying their lives matter.

My life matters too.
I don’t wish it on anyone,
But it still matters –
It matters to me –
It’s gotta be mine –
Not your God-forsaken assumption
Of what ‘healthy’ is for home-based PWD like me.

So I won’t be here next week,
Or the week after –
I got a life that matters,
And there’s no time to waste.

Peace out dude –
You’re cool –
You just don’t get it,
Like so many don’t get it
Or do anything about whether they get it,
Or even understand how they don’t get it.

If I festered over every person who didn’t get it
I’d be dead inside and out –
So you’re cool, you’re not alone –
But I gotta let you go, you’re not good for me –
You don’t get me
Or hear me
Or even understand me.

I suppose I could march about that too.
I wouldn’t be marching alone, for sure –
If all the people
people don’t get marched,
and talked, and hugged and cried –
well, well…
it would all work better –
it would WORK!

Do you get we all have blood?
we all feel?
we all matter?
we all are different?
Do you get that?
There isn’t a mold —
There’s no book.

Life is scary shit when it’s like that isn’t it?
There’s not even answers.
Just one day at a time,
One experience at a time,
One moment at a time –
And then we decide what to do –
In that moment –
for good or bad,
better or worse,
right or wrong.

And sometimes it is sooooo wrong.
And we can’t take it back –
And it hurts, and we cry –
Remember? I cried this week.
It hurt.

I wish I just had watched it,
From afar on a blubbering machine –
But I wrote —
I spoke —
I felt.
I’ll never be the same.

So I’m not isolating
In my room
or virtual world
or whatever.

Maybe one day we’ll meet again –
But you’ll have to leave this office
and those blabbery machines.
I’m tired of explaining me –
So from now on,
if you want to know me,
come find me.
I’m not hiding –
Find me!