Dear Doctor

Dear Doctor,

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         My father won best loser in bare knuckle fights. My mother was an Angel who showed me the light. Hopeful and bright she shone upon those who knew her dignity beheld her Spirit inspired delight.                                                                                                                                                      He was an orphan his mother was kept her life in institutions for bearing un-wed.                                      From work-house to borstal he left prison undone, wed my mother they searched the Asylums the whole Country for his Mum.                                                                                                                                                                            Opium, my trigger for Twelve admissions into asylums over thirty odd years.                                                            The rest in recovery drugged to the eyeballs-the Largactyl ‘Soft-cosh’ provided the tears.                                                    In a room (your prison) but what have you done…                                                                                              Injected and jacketed left believing ‘You are the One.’                                                                     Without window view or contact for weeks upon end, this Is where you lose the plot.                                      Where are the friends?                                                                                                                               Punching the walls in delusion/seclusion forgetting everything you learned or were told.                                 “Get a grip” is the way forward we’re told but you lost your grip now you are old.                                                                                                                  When sanity loses It’s grip we are told to hold on to the past                                                                            when you do that you find nothing can last.                                                                                                                                                                                  Trying to make sense of a story you made up yourself                                                                                     makes even You know that the story you made up                                                                                                             is the story that you’re surely losing your health.                                                                                                                                                      No one will ring you or call when you’re down and you’re out                                                                                   Its easy to prove but you still try and turn it about.                                                                                                                                                                            Your steely fragility tumbles all over the place                                                                                                                    you take it out in the mirror as you look into your face.                                                                                                                                                                                                Thousands of volts are wasted many times turning your brains into pulp.                                                                        Now, no self-control no self-confidence Its all you can do is to walk.                                                               Everyone says you’re “Wallowing in your own self- pity”.                                                                                                            But If they went to this place in their minds they would know the meaning of “Empathy”.                                               ‘Stigma’, another word that they so like to use to describe what they really don’t know.                                                                                                                                           For some It has dragged Its heels in their Lives and put on quite a good show.                                                         It gives me such sorrow and grief so much trouble to write this all down.                                                                                                                            Think what you will in the end Its for Me                                                                                                                           I don’t care, you were never around.                                                                                                                                                                                                 I’ve come to terms with my demons within                                                                                                                                     like the way they make me behave with my head as they win.                                                                                                                                                                                                           I understand now without doubt the question of suffering and how it comes about.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  So, now, please use your intelligence for passing exams, various psychiatric and                                                             psychological techniques and your labels, and would you mind, please letting me out?

◄ Time is Nothing

Eternal Full Moon ►


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