#10- Check up. Check in. Check out.

Grasping for something to hold onto.

Just got off phone with therapist.

T.  We’ll call him T. 

Following up on request.

To check in.

On progress.

And current state.

 

Tough. Hard.

Voice, quiet and choked.

Words, stumbled and blocked.

Ideas, struggling to push

Through my throat.

 

“At this point, is it even

Possible to be friends

Anymore?”

 

Pain under sternum.

Inorganic.

Pulling. Sinking.

Panic.

 

Head spinning.

Empty.

No one home.

Resources diverted

To trying to keep

From throwing up.

Author's Note

Wrote this quickly, in the moment, a little bit ago. Website inaccessible for a bit. Ended up jotting it down in Word. Felt strange that writing a poem was the first thing I thought of doing.

Also strange to see that, at the time, I apparently made a small allusion to Timothy Leary for the title. Seemingly without knowing. Don't know why. Head still hurts, though. Need to rest.

Reviews

[redzone]

old Timothy, he knew how to trip didn't he... lol... sometimes writing down your thoughts, feeling in poetic form is the most relevant thing to do... perhaps you are becoming more of a poet than you realize??? ;0)

it may be written quickly but I like the flow of it and the internal rhythm...

redzone

[Paper]

I guess I might be. Thank you.