psychology – poems 2 die for

PERFORMATIVE

called in
a psychologist

to do
my rewiring

a young man
from
Zurich

who
left me
positive
negative
in the dark

with all his
talk
of polar archetypes

and selfless shadow work

SOMEONE ELSE
“My only regret in life is that
I was not born someone else”.
Woody Allen

you looked through that
special drawer

for mementos, treasures,
precious relics of time past

you you found were
poems, love poems
written
for someone else

told
their own story

self-
explanatory

no comment necessary
or required

it is always; there
is always
someone else

it iz in the nature of desire
who we are
you don”t need
a doctoral thesus on
Jacwues Lacan

to figure it out
but it just might help

things
might help

and everybody ultimately
knows that ws all
want, wish
we were someome else

want to pour our hearts out
to somone who might love
us, want us
or at least listen

but they have no time
for you
and your pain and
all ypur somebody else troubles

becausw
in the hearts they know
what you are
is
less, is negative
is not what

they thought

too young you were
to figure out the disappointment
on all those faces

first breath
you took

meant for somebody else

I asked you
begged you

not to listen
to that voice

but even if you
did not summon it

you let it ring
in your head

something in your head
told you this was the song
the dance of life
music of
our very existence

and not the scratched old pressing
of a foghorn jamming
with an
air raid siren

drowning out
everything harmonious
there
might have been.