Another Psychosomatic Night
Vague like your poise
Sundry times of captured soldiers
Days that circle like sand storms
Our center is camouflage
Central nervous system of drips
Wisps in the hallway
Going to far into the future
Ripping flesh of the past
All this circling introspection
Why doesn't he make love to me anymore?
You're a ghost town
You're cruel in your patience
Your relationship is a sham
You rationalize while you die inside
Your psychiatric couch is another excuse
You hide behind things
Sleeping pills
Displacement
A rash, a stomachache
Another psychosomatic night
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Added by Poetry Lover
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