Crazy therapist

“Do you even know why you’re here?”
“Drug addiction and anger issues …”
“You want to recover from the addiction of the effects of the drugs?”
“Yes sir … That’s why I am here …”
“Well, what are the effects?”
“Happiness sir …”
“So … You want to recover from happiness?”
“Sir that happiness is temporary …”
“Who the hell fooled you to think that there’s a permanent happiness?!”
“Look … I will die if I don’t stop!”
“You will die anyways … ”
” … Yes but I want to live a healthy life!”
“So, are you planning to go on a diet?”
“No!”
“Why not?”
“I can’t let go of chocolate I guess …”
“So … If it rains chocolate, would you stand under and drink?”
“I would rather die drowning in chocolate.”
“Do you like ketchup?”
“I love ketchup, I can’t eat my food without it.”
“What if it rains ketchup … Would you stand under and drink?”
“No way …”
“But you would stand under chocolate … I thought you loved ketchup …”
“Yes but chocolate is sweet … What does this have to do with my treatment anyway?!”
“Ketchup is also sweet it’s filled with sugar and seriously what does anything has to do with anything?”
“You don’t make any sense … What about my anger management?”
“Here’s my diagnosis … You are not logical. As for your anger management … If you couldn’t channel your anger watch cartoon channels.”
“That is the most stupid thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Scientifically, laughing defeats anger. Next time come to my sessions for finding logic, that is if you don’t OD. That’ll be two packs of green.

When impossible takes a human form …

Dear walking heaven; the meaning of poetry and the reason of love wars, the innocence in your face is tempting for corruption. I surrender, I give up, I give in, I resist … This dreamy soul of yours which is stained with earthy colours is my forbidden desire, I want to drink it like fine wine, if this was possible. The way you walk like a child in the gardens of beauty makes me want to chase you, catch you and fill my lungs with your golden laughter. The way you glow makes me wonder … Do you drink sunshine in cups for breakfast or are you the angel of love? Why do the sunflowers follow you? Why do I feel that you are my good mornings, my warm afternoons, my fading evenings and gloomy nights?

Those lips of yours … When you talk, they slither softly and are deadly enough to kill. Are they poisonous berries? I would dare to try. Two goddesses playing around a lake and I would jump into its depth even though I can’t swim, I’d rather drown than be rescued. Gathered roses of which I want to extract the finest perfume that could give eternal youth. Or is it a nectar of delicious fruits that will run through the veins of the dead and give life to their cold hearts?

I don’t mind dying in your arms; where paradise lays or on the sounds of your laughs; the meaning of true happiness; the high tasteful music; the light that will conquer any evil. Your pure soul is the meaning of love,art,adventure and selflessness. An art piece that is so fine that life brags with to let me know that you’re not mine to have, I don’t deserve you but I will settle for pleasuring my eyes with seeing you from a distance.

How can something be so beautiful and torturous? Like a rose with thorns indeed, a rose swaying in the breeze playfully, tempting to be picked and owned. Breathtaking and captivating, a mix of pain and pleasure, worthless words to describe such a magical creature who is higher than to be made out of clay.

Sweet children

Yes I fancy those children, the way their imagination works is fascinating. He chases butterflies calling them magical fairies yet he releases them when they fall under his mercy. She cries on the crumbs of her crackers and calls them falling angels from the sky. She imagines the rain drops as soldiers being sent down to rest after a battle, so she dances under love trying to collect them on her skin to live in her.

He lays down to count the stars and says I’ll go there one day to play with them and perhaps shine like they do. She sneaks on her toes into my library; which she thinks is forbidden, to learn the secrets of life of course. They fear our cook; from her broad face that they compare with stone. They say she eats children and cook them.

I laugh at these scenes which they make. I only wish that the last one was not true. Yes, my angels are stars now in a far fairyland guiding soldiers to the secrets of life, that’s what I like to think.

A moment have made all the difference

Those Trees took off their orange gowns to put on silky green. Those roses; the sleeping beauties, have worn their sensational perfume and blushed their velvety cheeks. The moon danced the pavane on my river living a love fantasy.

The river broke waves to greet him in a beautiful rhythm creating music along with the rose-breasted grosbeaks which refused to sleep. When he arrived, stars threw their selves beneath his feet for they are unworthy to compete with his eternal glow.

His light defeated the darkness of the night and his vivacious laugh poured on nature to comfort her mourning soul. He blew kisses in the air and they flew like butterflies in a dream and the inspiration roses have tried to collect them like pieces of fine poetry.

All that nature needed from those deep honey wells of heaven is a glad gaze, a gaze that would make her feel loved enough to grow beautifully till she dries of longing for a second date.