and the extragavence of it, like shattered crystal pirecing the floorboards, a brilliance of light and blood and splinters. did you say that? why goddamn yes i did and it was perfect, the way her nipples stood up at attention and his cock fell apart at the seams. like a baseball thrown too many times. how about that? yeah, that’s the ticket. something else entirely in mind but what mind are we fucking talking about at this point? and on and on and on.
Monthly Archives: October 2008
opening therapy
So walking into the room we get the formalities out of the way: insurance papers and disclaimers, hipaa acknowledgements and privacy statements. He’s old and patient, stereotype, textbook shrink. But I’m comforted by his age: he’s lived, he’s seen it all.
He asks me: have you had previous treatment, have been hospitalized? No, only for stitches. I wonder if he’s noticed the scars on my arm. I tell him about the in school therapist at john jay. He wonders aloud where’s he heard john jay from before.
I clarify: john jay college of criminal justice. He asks me if I wanted to go into law enforcement and I reply how I originally wanted to be a cop, then a federal law enforcement officer but how a professor changed my mind. I point out how I have a degree in forensic psychology. He follows up with if I was familiar with behavioral sciences and I was.
He then asks me if I had any questions and I’m a blank at first. I think of what I was supposed to ask from what i read online: what’s your approach? Do you ask a lot of questions or just let the patient do all the talking? He responds (correctly) that it depends on the person: one patient he has comes in, talks about his issues, arrives at a conclusion and leaves. “I am more of a spectator to his process.” Another comes in and she’s all over the place and he presses her.
Next question: under what conditions would you refuse to see a patient? He explains that there some areas that are not within his expertise. That addiction isn’t something he would take on. And sometimes during couples therapy he’s had patients put him in the middle and issues on confidentiality might arise and he would recommend another therapist for one of the partners. He also gave an instance where the man had an order of protection against the woman and she had an order of protection against the man and yet both went home to sleep in the same bed.
And during this time I can’t help but notice that instead of a coffee table, he’s got this nice looking leather office chair with wooden arms sitting atop of a plastic sheet right in the middle of the room. So I ask, what’s with the chair? Is it for you or the patient. And his response was, “Well, the chair doesn’t work and I ask people not to sit in it. That’s it.”
obscurity knocks
i find myself, looking, leaves scattered across the street. there, youth, alone, dancing, laying in the streets, oncoming traffic and a girl that laughs having been there. i tighten my grip, veer towards the shoulder, she says to me, i still think you’re an interesting person. the windshield shatters, dense spiderweb of all the things obscuring the night, the headlights. sometimes, he says to me, sometimes you have to sacrifice for the greater good, and i find myself a child again, incomprehensible and lonely. i never had a problem being alone but i’ve never felt this unreasonably lonely. and the wind cuts through the throat, leaving us shivering and cracked open again.
witching
i weep crows with eyes that find no purchase, regret filled. they fling themselves into the moon, lost between thick clouds racing the sky. the night was so well lit that i could see the veins on the back of my hand, pulsing and thick, vines across a freshly dug grave. halloween is coming but there are no witches to poison me.
at peace
the sanest moments, the one where i posses the most clarity are the one where i am utterly alone: there is no you, there are no children, there is no self hate. i am alone with the house, the darkness, the sounds of cicada, the air cool, the streets quiet. i do not look within because there is nothing to see, nothing there, no remorse, no sense of impending doom, no weight of disappointment. i am not a failure as a husband, not an incompetent father, not a recalcitrant son. i am not a sorry excuse for a human being. i am isolated and whole and at peace.
first birthday
Son, we had your first birthday aprty today and you were adorable and shy but curious and playful. You are a wonder to me: hesitant and stubborn, open and observent: you are not afraid to look at anyone in the eyes, you hold their gaze. Will you remember to tell me what you were looking for? Will you tell me what you saw? Will it break my heart?
inevitable skewer
I have to admit there’s only a certain amount of stupidity I can withstand: it is all so trivial. Am I a product of this or have I out grown it? Ceaselessly, like waves pounding, eroding the shore. I am wasting away and no one can see. I look out my daughter, already lost, my son, a certain hope there that he will surpass me. I look at her and see all the wonder and grace a human being can be. I look at the mirror and all I see is sorrow and pain, the bearer and the cause: a lamb and the inevitable skewer.
how being pro-choice is republican
watching sarah palin and completely losnig my shit on her stance on the “culture of life.”
did it ever occur to these republicans that pro-choice is more in-line with their conservative values?
here’s why: the vast majority of abortions are performed on women in their early teens to mid twenties living in metropolitain areas. they are not financially indepedent and most likely because of their lack of a college education will not be after they bring a baby to term.
here we go, child born into unwanted household to parents, or rather PARENT of limited means. even worse, child goes into foster care. who subsidizes foster care, the government. abortion gets outlawed, more kids into the system. but not unwanted rich babies. people of means would simply leave the country to have the procedure performed elsewhere.
so now we’re left with unwanted babies being born to poor, working class teen/early twenty year olds in metropolitain areas of limited means and limited education. how are they going to support these children? ah, they ask for help, help from whom? the government.
so now we got single parents on welfare, children in foster care, and the government determining where these children should stay, how they should live. children in foster care tend to remain institutionalized in one way or another: mental, juvenile, correctional, etc.
more government oversight, regulation and bureaucracy.
how the fuck is this in-line with the touted fiscal conservatism of the republicans?
best bet tied
yakkity yak, here’s a smack, right across the face, did you like that? did you want more? no, no, no. tie them fucking hands up, shall we? you have no rights here, you are nothing here other than skin, bruised fucking meat, you’re my motherfucking punching bag. strain all you want, curse me, spit me, wriggle as hard as you can. it just makes me harder, makes my tighten my fucking fists. your best bet is to go limp. your best bet is to roll with it. your best bet is i get tired before i start on your fucking bones.
straining
the straining of leaves and I felt like we were in the fifties but awoke to an infomercial of supported breasts and an advanced push bra. it’s all over again and the ache stretches through the bones until it clamors in the mouth, drying up the spit and withering the gum. every action should have a consequence else we find ourselves drunk and disorderly, fumbling our keys trying to break into our own homes.