Each Neurotic Blink, You Think Poem by James McLain

Each neurotic Blink, you think;
Encouragement it needs a little more.
Too pull it much, much quicker to the top.
Your doctor knows how you deeply, very much.
And in sleep the windows open,
even wider, as it drifts by.
Do you cross one leg around it's
other,
while the other fights off 'Group' therapy.
or Are they mostly open,
like four corners of your mind.
Each dropp of sweat and how it builds.
Coming out of each those many hollow
heavy hand made doors.
and it Falls Off like yellow dust,
each one seed a tiny pearl.
and why it's nose it knows,
your breath and how each kiss it must redefine.
To a host of hospitable southern ways,
it will you know, turn out all right if it finds out
you did.

Are you blank,
Do you stare off outside this windows,
broad light, there at some tree.
The noises that you make,
are you afraid that he wont, my 'dear', he can.
The rumble that it makes, out back.
They make you shake, he thinks you know
and this is where your now at.
Do the questions that I ask,
all end there, bound up in why.
I will always suspect that as a child, and I assume
you said you were, just, all a little, 'Dears'.
Then he probes a little deeper, does he not.
Have you forgot.
now Close your legs,
and get it up and pull it out, and mosey off and,
hurry up and pull them on,
Your sessions at it's end
It seems so clear that all the money you have brought
is now all gone.
Your mind seems now fine, call a cab.