Friday, June 18, 2010

New Path

new path
by Mick Tomlinson

and so I wonder
as I sit there pounding out my feelings
ten syllables at a time,
elbows dug into armrests,
thoughts dropping like acid.
she is a nice lady,
she studied overseas where gold
kept a country out of war,
where Jung sought new areas
to explore.

these will be the days
these will be the days

the scent of a chemical toilet,
that's the smell of self discovery.
I'm diving in deep,
I am thin and filthy and full of secrets,
I'm trying to get clean.
across from me she listens intently,
constantly scribbling little mysteries
into her notebook.
she is thin and pretty and full of secrets-
I'm one of them.

I've got raisins in my pocket
for the dog next door,
the one that never bites, but looks stupidly
up at trees, waiting for birds to fly.
he prefers raisins over dog food,
which is good because I can't stand the smell
of dog food-flavored pockets.

the only thing worse, maybe, is
the smell of a chemical toilet.

1 comment:

  1. Love these words. Reminds me of when I went to therapy kind of.


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