Therapy Session

Protagonist:

Salt all over my wounds
I let my tears tell the truth
I gave my life up in this too
with a demon pitch black
hanging over my shoulders
blaspheming outrightly
the words that echo
"I feed off turmoil, love and intent."
Meanwhile, I'm only trying to seek out the beauty
But the answer , it seems,
lies within the continuous war inside my head


"I feel like i'm falling."

Therapist : “I feel like I'm falling?”
                   Why do you feel that way ?

Protagonist :

I feel I've fallen from grace.
My karma appears imminent.
I have conceded to my self-destruction.
My sadness,my comfort.
April took its greatest toll.
With a heavy heart and tired eyes.
Twenty-five days like counting numbers.
Twenty-eight years of skimming through chapters.
Trying to find myself.
and nestled deep within
is an unwavering discomfort.
A vile dose of masochism.
My natural endorphins could not surmount its will.
I am but a broken will
the elegance of a fractured mind
I would neither reach out
nor call out your name
its whom I'm bound to
by blood and spirit
To carry on for eternity
The place I used to call Home,
has failed to be a bed to me
part of me stayed to tend to that garden
the latter withered away emphatically
to us , we do compromise
I birthed a whole new life into this
her misty eyes conceals the truth
yet she can stand the rain
 all I required was
love requited
the wishes of a dying star
to love
and be loved.
stay in my arms if you should dare
my hues would never change for you
tell me something
before they put me in this coffin
for I am pervaded by langour
of chasing butterflies
of chasing ideas
And so I succumb
to the forces that be
my mortality stares back at me
in ascension to find the impossible…..
Your Heart.

Therapist : You spoke about “Home”
                   What does home represent ?

Protagonist :


Home represents a construct.
in its natural cocoon,
it blooms with sprung wings of elegance.
Home is a muse to unsung poetry.
love’s elusive grace
the ministry of presence.
Home drew its first breath on March 27th.
I found true perspective in beauty and loss.
her eyes agleam on first sight.
she sought me out and broke my will.
 Home was born unlike the others.
the color blue under the sanguine skies
I've drank from your loving cup.
in a my lonely days and somber ways.
when doubt impales a wounded heart
shrouded in the cold abandonment of the night
Home stood the test of time.
accommodated the insecurities.
a bioluminescence to the dejected.
 A Safe Space.
Home in my native tongue is a blessing.
Home is my saving grace.

Therapist : But really , do you feel okay ?
 
Protagonist :
 
 
The melancholic showers  
tower above my head
I have sworn vows over muttered prayers and pride
Everything has been carved in lies  
Every emotion has been deprived
How much more do I have to prove ?
Too many voids left in your wake  
I have made moves on shackled feet  
NO !!!
I do not feel okay.
Life passes me by on the daily  
I'm still planted to a hopeless cause
My mind is filled with voices  
They taunt  
They daunt  
They gloat over , with the parasites in their belly  
I'm losing perspective  
I'm dying deep within  
Release me of this burden  
I'm tattered , I’m decayed  
I am frail , I am imperfect  
 
 
Does our story have to end ?
What if God doesn't know what to do with us ?
DO WE LIVE IN LIMBO ???
IS A NEW CHAPTER IN THE WORKS ???

Therapist :

Trust me
It's okay not to feel alright
It's okay to feel alone  
It's okay to have those voices in your head.
It’s okay not to feel at home
It's okay to be never wanted
It’s okay to be afraid
It’s okay to be in pain
It’s okay to feel the shame
It’s okay to cry
It’s okay you tried
It’s okay you fought
It’s okay you lost
It’s okay to be in doubt
It’s okay to lose count
It’s okay you had your turn
It’s okay that love burns
It’s okay to feel the way you are
It’s okay she was once your star
It’s okay you dreamt
It’s okay to be spent
It’s okay to lose sight of what’s really important
But as you embark on this path
Always remember to breath.

Protagonist :
 
Just took a deep breathe
and I accepted it.  
The morning songbird don't deliver no more  
It’s almost distasteful  
The lego bricks we so frivolously assembled  
comes tumbling down  
I've lost sight on the gentle touch
on my soul.
Perhaps my name remains  
inconsequential  
Perhaps it’s hardly ever spoken of.
All that remains in the open  
an unclean spirit
so purulent in it’s nature  
corrosive to it’s core  
You are so unlike me
Darn near perfect  
I wish I was somebody  
 Anybody but myself



*****END OF SESSION*****