Small talk


I saw a therapist the other day.
She seems excited
to dig into my skull
so that’s cool.
I told her that I want my memories back.
She seems to think we can find them.
I hope so.

Then there’s the small issue
of the otherworldly noticings.

Oh, and the weather. It’s been weird.

Damn it.
How can 20 years have passed?

And,
while I am well aware
that I’m not the poster child
of sanity,
I can’t find a way
to make this make sense.

I’ve referred to myself as a watcher
For many years. The irony
does not escape me.

What’s next?



Diary by R.W.S. The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 11 times
Written on 2024-03-01 at 03:16

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