intake

Step One

Watch all the people turn inside-out. Off with a click. On again. Observe the articulation of your fingers. See how the hospital light falls right through. They call somebody’s name. Let them unscrew the top of you. There is still room inside for a beginning.

Step Two

The existence of psychology can be ascribed to the fact that it is difficult to hold emptiness. Try anyway. Frequent temper tantrums. Refusing to do what an adult asks. Become dark matter. Do not interact with light. Being easily annoyed by others. The expert of human invention. Questioning the rules. 

Step Three

Turn into electricity. Glut yourself on dissected brains, on trash TV. Neurons firing straight through the throat. Categorize humanity’s bad dreams, revenge fantasies, and private obsessions. Come to the conclusion that everybody is irredeemable and sick.

Step Four

Accept the solitary confinement; the purgatorial litany of questions and evaluations. They pulled the plug and drained you. Room for an ending. Even if there is no ending. Even if the ending is an email and slow death by black tar, clueless invocation, impossible to avoid.

Step Five

You will run empty of bids to something greater. Take calls only from the pharmacy. Others just want the dimensions of a gap. It never scars. It glistens fresh. There is no ending but the stretch of the green line, progression, regression, remission, refill, hungrily tracing around negative space.

i originally wrote this for a magazine, but i didn't end up submitting because it was $20 and i didn't think i had a chance. the prompt was 'science'. i have a special interest in psychology, but i'm also deeply critical of the way it is practiced. this poem is mostly about my experiences with professionals after i was diagnosed with autism. it felt like they had no idea what to do about my struggles. the only things they could help me with were things i already figured out myself. it was really exhausting, and i was already exhausted. anyway, thanks for reading!!!