Untreatably me

Reblog: Untreatably Me. John of Woodsy is one of my favorite poets. This work is phenomenal.

Woodsy the Performance Poet

I’ve hit a place where everything dies.

Or maybe I’m simply dying for a hand,
holding mine
like it’s really there…

and walking me free

just like
someone real I used to be

but never quite got the hang of.

But what I don’t want…

What I don’t want is your help.

I don’t want any more of your tests
and your sad,
scary waiting rooms

and your scanning, seeing, sorting machines,

running on clockwork
and fairy tales.

I don’t want a thousand ways to label me away.

I don’t want a number or a code
or a class
to teach me out of darkness.

I wither in your heartless light

and on your silly bloody charts.

I don’t want your pills
or your sick notes
or your half-hearted dose of talk therapy
with a diagram thrown in.

I don’t want your cold,
soulless rooms
and your smug, dead eyes,

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