Mental Health Problem

There’s a bath shaped  hole right where my brain used to be.
Bruce Springsteen wrote and sang about a Wrecking Ball
Well, I know where he’s coming from when tonight I get hit again.
And dream about bath salts and a plug on a chain and shampoo.
In reality, my head is going under and I can feel chemicals burning my lips until the moment I break free and breathe the air heavenly.
I stand in nature’s blanket cold and shivering but I forgot its good to know you were there to put the blanket on and to comb my hair for me.
My prestige lies on the dresser brought home from a trip to London one day.
I forget I don’t need it when I hear your voice telling me that there’s something else except a to b not that It works today or yesterday or even tomorrow. It’s all gods plan for us mortals, you say. What plan? I reply, saying a quick prayer. Yours? Bentham’s plans for fillings not required, Operations cancelled worldwide, Ricketts in the family too? And me with a Mental Health problem.Your plan is one of misery if indeed it exists at all except in your mind. Never mind that. Come to bed.Let’s sail away.

Art for art’s sake!

Published by Andrew Mark Watkins

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