Your Psychiatry

your psychiatry picks away at me

pulling at my stitches 

plagued by witches casting 

Prozac spells, who the hell 

is prescribing these pills?

a sliced and diced life 

sits elegantly 

on the table of fantasy,

a glass sits in front of me, 

denial is a vial topped up

with a bitter tonic

we make a toast to the moronic, 

to think the cosmos in my mind 

can be refined by swallowing

unspecified chemicals,

yeah right! 

pharmaceutical oracles

with their insightful predictions 

can never cure my afflictions,

the depressed martyrs 

set fire to themselves 

to save the town folk 

from the fear found 

in the collective 

cerebellar hemisphere,

diagnosis is a task, 

you never ask

you never listen

have you ever really heard me?

you’re committing perjury

on my senses 

as the drug pusher dispenses 

strange coloured tablets

into small white containers,

“swallow them all in one

soon you’ll feel numb”

your psychiatry,

is unimaginable surgery

Cognitive Behavioural Therapy?

you’ve gotta be kidding me!

I can’t align myself with 

vapid ways of thinking

that’s what’s got me drinking,

I pacify and dull the pain

with an addiction I can’t abstain 

 

Mrs Lazarus comes to me 

when I’m in a psychotic cage

her hands are warm

and slightly wrinkled with age,

her bedside manor 

is an anchor in an ocean

of padded cells, 

nothing subdues

the screams and yells

not even a bucket full of pills,

I fucking hate this place,

the decor is old and cold 

it’s here where the world

dump their unwanted

broken 

and 

busted 

stigmatised 

and 

taunted, 

we’re all embarrassments 

placed in cubicles for study, 

quietly hidden from society

dissected from the family,

dead meat, incomplete 

it’s like an inverted resurrection

every time I’m sectioned,

I rise again, for what?

I feel like shit,

your treatment is a prelude, 

slow, 

sluggish 

and 

so 

hard

to manage 

Mrs Lazarus comes to me

at my most damaged

she removes my shoelaces

in case I decide to hang myself, 

I’m so dizzy, here is there

or whereabouts, 

her demeanor is oblique 

she never critiques

always listens, 

never forcing her opinions,

she keeps me company

throughout the night 

and when my meds kick in

she turns out the light

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