when my soul has smoldered cold

[I have very little idea when I wrote this, since I did not datestamp it. All I know is it was a few months ago; and I found it paired with "self-awareness," so it was probably written around the same time (08.10.10 ... a bit later, I think).]

"therapy"

coddammit
I feel like I have no one to talk to
about the serious, emotional, important things
when I have inward issues I have trouble sorting out
I need help
but all my friends feel superficial
all my bonds are brittle
I feel alone with my own thoughts
my only therapy manifest through page
— a black pen capped with red 
that sheds blue in the darkness.

I don't have much to pay for therapy
but sometimes it would taste so sweet
not to seek answers, mind,
but just to talk
& meanwhile someone listens
oh how long it's been
since someone listened.

I know I want a hand to hold
in truth not just to hold her
but when my soul has smoldered cold
to use her for a shoulder.

therapy is just like all else:
but some words selected from a lexicon,
arranged, estranged, & sequenced
by a mortal mind
groping to be heard
among the mass of echoed anomie □