Institutions in Psychology

in pictures and pixels on bright backlit screens
through color or grays and blacks

i feel my gut bulging
bloating from gloating
that everything's great looking back

as i flash images
of experiences gone by
after they've molted from growth

after all the thoughts and desires
have turn to dried out old toast

i want to be able to make sense of it all
the feelings that throb through my veins

i want to know why i get so excited,
with anger, or sadness, or pain

and i can feel the demons
rushing around
wearing down my delicate entrails

they're filling my mind
with manilla folders
and eraser debris blacked from details

looking back into the past
it feels like a storm
is rising up inside of me.

it is a resounding hum,
it is a beating drum,
that is played for full moons next to open seas

with time
i find
memories blind
and the new
comes from something old

so with change,
therein lies
the strange,
butter and flies
and crumbs that stick to your soles

we are left with the bits
the segments and sections
of instances from long ago

and it all becomes true
as they say "one cannot simply move on,
until, from the past, they let go"


and life wants to escape
from these stained window panes
but even if it succeeds

it will move on,
and away from the place
but the place, in the mind
does not change

the cells, or chemicals,
or DNA structures,
or the particles in between

remembers,
and always holds true to its form
like the fragments of glass left unseen

they are the ghosts of our brains
like ghosts in a house
that cast shadows upon your walls

but the lights flick on
and nothing seems wrong
in the morning the mocking birds call

so though it seems lost
or forgotten or sad
i know what i have to do

still i find ghosts in my blouse
and these ghosts in my mouth
don't want me to let it be true

for if i let go
counted fingers and toes
of reasons, the forgets and forgives

these demons inside
and around me they glide,
would die alongside their votives

Its hard to agree
with the inside of me
when i feel pulled out like taffy

i want to look back on the times that ive had
but i know that it makes me feel crappy

for the person i was
or the way that i thought
or the the way i treated people

because part of me knows,
though older i've grown
i still feel all the same evils