Decompensation - Poem by Patti Masterman
Endless cold winter days and even longer nights-
I can get so philosophical at times.
Strange memories and thoughts start to taunt me:
Does the weatherman really keep mentioning 'The wedding? '
(Eighty years ago no weatherman was the cornerstone of anyone's daily plans)
And did I really kill that La Brea woman, thousands of years ago
Bash her skull in, and push her into the tar pits, to hide it:
Her skeleton found eons later, and placed on display in a museum
So that now she has a large pseudo-monument
To commemorate what I did, so long ago.
Is she really reincarnated as that redhead at church who gets on my nerves
Because everything I try in an attempt to get away from her, has the same result:
If I killed her, a new religion would no doubt spring up from her very blood-
And I can imagine all the rationalizing that I might use to finish her off now
Was the same I might have used back then by the asphalt pools.
Winter obsessions or paranoid paramnesia:
No bright, hot sun to deflate all the hallucinations
Bouncing around in the reflective deep freeze.
Just my psyche making up a little cold weather drama to amuse itself?
There's not always a full moon around to blame it on.
As long as it's just a hidden wrinkle inside my brain, it's fine
But if the thought police ever come round, I'm done for.
Comments about Decompensation by Patti Masterman
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You