…so
by sobriety, to feel each therapist, this client/patient boredom: our reaching
securities, our complaisant natures, unlike stirring gumbo: those blue blood
livers, those teal green manifestations, at seconds to discern qualifications: so
counterfeit, and such confetti, leaving modalities a bit disturbed: as living
monetarily, or afraid to dance, or such mystery and omnipotence: on being & existence, running through rooms, a tear-bit different with
psychiatrists: this internal/external stirring; those subtle
confrontational(s); or whipping this pot of cabbage: if but to surface, while
prepared to war, where behaviorism serves justice: this blank wall, those
crimson ideals, while pushing and retreating: but life is moving, to err as
humans, or to practice something mystical—if but more power, if but more
apathy, or tearing into prime beef: at miracle connections, a bit dissatisfied,
a bit demoralized—those differing worlds, this scoop of anguish, from multiple
piles: as with pensiveness, always our client’s fault, always beyond
perfection: but science is raw, and minds conflict, while stationed in
preservation: such rich intelligence, such posture and position, our games
postured by asking questions: at feudal confrontation, or one too damn this, or
too damn that: as if to scream—concerning degrees, concerning memorabilia—this
ace in pockets, this dance in sights, this musical instrument: as clients
question, we question in return, it becomes guidance aiding self-healing:
indeed, why complain, why ask for more, as if clients are intimate with
therapists: such as analyzing, instead of seeking long-term solutions, while it
becomes experiential….
…enough
by that and more to freedom, while concerned with passages: this field of
bleeders, this old siphoned soul, to convince self concerning our abilities: a
ton of this, a tank empire, or gunning in too deep to reach magic: our dire
needs, if but to succeed, if but to participate: so many crevices, so many
ants, where I need for you to admire me: enough of that and more to freedom,
while concerned with ubiquitous motives: this fretting to win, this eager
demonstration, or this request for worship: as he must be, and he surely is,
while clients fail to self-reflect: as projectiles, or resistance, or plain too
much openness: as remembering facts, our souls are human, plus, too much agony
might change us: that needed placebo, those sculptured responses, while in
reality one may not like that dynamic: at mirrors scratching, our noses
itching, while one waits for reality: this appearing fool, this maniac advisor,
where we encourage belief in self: to disassociate linen, to color white
garments, while baking a loaf of bread: but enough of that, and more to this,
while stressed concerning freedom: this needed retreat, this fiery island, this
essence where it lives in mentalities: this pulling from self, this clear state
of being, this reality independent of
participating souls: to discover lapses, to review performances, to label a
thinker as one a bit off: we give, you retrieve; we utter, you partake; we
disagree, you change that phone…our working numbers, those telemarketers, our irritable
resurrections….
I’m
thankful and instructed—leaning into wisdom, but some are a bit different: this
galaxy of helpers, this proven recovery, or those needed first insights: our
yawns, our removed clocks, our drifting into seconds: as humans above, or
humans below, while auras seem appropriate: such dedicated work, such carrying
anvils, such sawing credibility: to exist as one, to become multiple persons,
or something secure and intense: as needing whatness,
or reviewing thatness, while too
concerned about hang-ups: those subtle transgressions, or forced realities,
while one would die first: to disappear, to reappear, to shift so rapidly:
those glances moving, those contacts revived, while asleep and waking in vocal
hearts.
