psychiatric office dating

The waiting room,
chilly and slightly dimmed
from dead lightbulbs,
has the peculiar feeling of
impending suicide.

The chairs are tightly
packed together and
the people are herded
in and out of offices,
as life problems must be
solved in a capitalistic

A number of attractive
are also part of the herd,
which confuses me a bit:
And that may seem sexist,
but a woman with good looks
can get almost anything they might

Perhaps the drugs are the
desired object; to dull the
absurdities they must face
on a daily basis; old men
slurping down Viagra’s like
pez candy, constantly gawking,
and vulgar bumbling attempts to flirt
with them.

But perhaps this is the
place I should meet the
woman of my dreams
as we most likely have
thing or two
in common.

We could share drugs,
mix and tests the effects,
naked or not, but preferably
naked. If anything, she most
likely fucks like a majestic
trap queen.

Or she’s here because she
doesn’t know how to please
a man sexually, and now,
with a crazy woman.

I guess that wouldn’t
be any different than my
historical choices.

Lest we forget, I am
crazy too.

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Recently moved back to the States after living 16 months in Vietnam. I write to remove the thoughts trapped in the cobwebs of my psyche before the spider envelopes me whole.

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