My Psychiatrist And Latuda Poem by James McLain

After more than five years of going to
suncoast mental health
in Saint Petersburg Florida.
I completed my second full session with
her my current psychiatrist.
I have gained over sixty pounds taking
seroquel and before that
developed breasts taking the dreaded resperdal.
Due to my advanced age of fifty seven
I only wish to spend the few remaining year's
that I have pain free.
And of course being able to occasionally
contribute to something here.
What is Poetry?
Is it some form of complicated form of writing
that must ryhme with someplace
that so very few of our young adults have
never heard of?
And will never go to as our past and present
administration's have pretty much
guaranteed that if they do their head's will
be separated from their bodies.
Every five minutes she would interjecte that perhaps
latuda would get me out of my room where I have
spent the last five years of my life.
I told her that I have no real fear of death as must
we all,
but that I hold no real interest of Coming back and
dealing with those politicians
whom even the most least cerebral amongst U.S.
now know that they have no interest in
helping the people that they lied and schemed to
gain power over that they now have.
I told her that I needed no more of the poison that
these medications in reality are,
and that these new one's have had no real long term
studies that prove what they claim except
that the side effects might be death more death and
death with more death that you should report
to your primary doctor if feebleness or stroke occurred
that you should have never survived.