Freud my Archeologist

 


My Archeologist told me I am too deep
too compressed and too complicated

I flex my brain and attempt an expelling
of said deep, compressed complication

My Archeologist tells me next: fear not power
your own or others as well as might is right
power is but an illusion as well as dust

With precise optical brushes and miniscule velvet pickaxe
the dig has begun without my consent or desire

My Archelologist reaches out to me with gloved hand
confidently turns my wrist over to expose my veins
and touches each visible blue ghost with tenderness

Ach du lieber gott......
I have no fear
Just a thought
Will there be tea and toast afterwards?

Sparkley Surrender

Ratty red curtains sparkley
with surrender light up
the room you came to 
live in.

Prelude to you, my
life was squashed
and picked clean
bone dry by
kinfolk and lineage —
ostensibly with care.

Now you arrive
with gleaming photographs
and pink bubble gum
lustful thoughts
and honeyed kisses
that drive us together
and forevermore crush 
The Arbor of Blue Inertia.