He looked into my eyes and saw the misconnections behind them.
I know in fifteen minutes he will make his chair do an audible creek;
My queue to leave.

I knew I wouldn’t pass this MOT
Just like at eleven I didn’t pass my cycling proficiency
Because I couldn’t see traffic on my left side and the instructor said “pretend”.
He asks me about what I see and I tell him,
I tell him with a knot in my throat about people
How my mind rotates in oxymoron around my spine and he
He tells me I’m crazy.
But that, it’s okay, it’s textbook.

It’s a bad sign when your psychiatrist says
“Don’t worry it’s not the one serial killers have”
It’s a bad sign when your head is hitting the wall again and again
And the fuckers put you in a CT scan to check there is still a brain there.
Of course there is.
That’s the problem.

The diagnosis is accept and live with it.
After all that’s the best prognosis anyone could hope for.
I’m living on the edge.


6 thoughts on “Borderline

  1. I don’t know how to write a(n) haiku, do I will do this in prose. No, you do not accept his diagnosis. He looked into your eyes and was his problems and abandoned you. The you that does not quite fit in with your immediate environment and do so consistently enough yo impress him. Mindfulness is the arises that you draw in your picture. Mine is a round rod, a meter long up and down my body. If I focus on that, no drug mistake “will be delivered tomorrow” or person-mistake “how are you, darling, long time no see” can hurt you. But see those lines in your picture seem two dimensional (actually they are 3 or 4 or 5). So start with thee and make them real. Not like they were yesterday. Horrors. And not like they ought to be next week when Pa comes to visit. Make them real, now. You are not living on the edge. See and edges in your picture? You are frustrated. You are misunderstood by people who claim to understand. Tell your shrink yo put down his tome and read …………. Whatever your favorite book or article is.

    The dragon lady
    C j Buechler

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