Girl In The Therapist’s Waiting Room


Artwork by kind permission of Adam Bennet.



The blind clicks and claps, fluttering like tin eye-lashes
Your chewed sleeve clasps tightly around your thumb
A synthetic nipple

The head can truly break the heart

You carry the kind of sadness that kills
It twists around your neck like a barbed Christmas Scarf
Taking root within your sighs

All unwanted parental gifts suffocate

I watch from the wrong end of a telescope
Reaching an impotent hand
If only my words could be as creative as the sadistic brilliance of insecurity

For no one needs to seek reasons to die

This patchwork Frankenstein soul of stitch and string
Vulnerable, opaque
How exhausting it is, straining every sinew to prevent yourself unravelling

The fear of being sprawled out …… and found out

How small can you become?
Rolled up like tumbleweed
I yearn for strength, to save us all
And have you tumble free

This tunnel’s light can throw
False shadows from the past
And monsters plot and loom at night
When viewed through finger masks

But wisdom comes in darkness
Where demons bare their teeth
Don’t fear their bloated silhouettes
And see you here next week

©Copyright Dean Stephenson 2012

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