The Couch



you hadn't seen your father in such a long time 
he died in the arms of his lover how dare he 
your mother never left the house 
she never married anyone else you took it upon yourself to 
console her 
you reminded her so much of your father 
so you were banished and you wonder why you're so 
hypersensitive  and why you can't trust anyone but us 
but then how can I begin to forgive her so many years under 
bridges with dirty water 
she was foolish and selfish and cowardly if you ask me 
I don't know where to begin in all of my 50 odd years 
I have been silently suffering and adapting perpetuating and 
enduring who are you younger generation to tell me that I 
have unresolved problems not many examples of fruits of this 
type of excruciating labour 
how can you just throw words around like grieve and heal 
and mourn I feel fine we may not have been born as awake 
as you were it was much harder in those days we had paper 
routes uphill both ways 
we went from school to a job to a wife to instant parenthood 
I walked into his office I felt so self-conscious on the couch 
he was sitting down across from me he was writing down his 
hypothesis I don't know 
i've got a loving supportive wife who doesn't know how involved 
she should get 
you say his interjecting was him just calling me on my shit? 
just the other day my sweet daughter I was driving past 203 
I walked up the stars in my minds eyes 
I remember how they would creak loudly 
she was only responsive with a drink he was only responsive
by photo I was only trying to be the best big brother I could 
i've walked sometimes confused sometimes ready to crack open wide 
sometimes indignant sometimes raw 
can you imagine I pay him 75 dollars an hour sometimes? 
it feels like highway robbery 
and sometimes it's peanuts 
I wish it could last a couple more hours 
so here we both are battling similar demons (not coincidental)




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