Mr. Doctor Boy,
not quite man,
Can you show me
how to change the chemical composition of my brain?
Can you take authority
and claim to know how to cure me?
Mr. Doctor Boy,
Didn’t your father teach you
how to arrange dopamine and serotonin
in the correct orders?
Tell me of noradrenaline,
help me understand,
Mr. Doctor Boy,
be a man and fix me.

Check out my book, The Four Stages of Poetry, now available on amazon.


Bled Ink

Captivated by the poetry flowing through my veins

Bleeding into my mind when the double sided razor blade glides across my paper skin

Fascinated by the silence; the gauze from the pill slipped under the tongue

Lips stitched up by threaded thoughts

I’m becoming nothing more than the lost files of an unapproved medical procedure