The General Practitioner
A family doctor.
A dereliction for a prescription.
Surgery and perjury rhyming for a reason.
A monster manipulating a mouse and caressing a keyboard.
I am thinking, what is he thinking?
He is thinking, what am I thinking?
And I am still thinking
and he is still thinking.
An anatomical skeleton, old curiosity shop sapien, scribing suppressants.
An abattoir hung, animal skin satchel, sleeping unsoundly in death.
And amongst hemoglobin and probing,
something said about serotonin.
Twice taken tablets
and capsules that will censor and curb.
For the rest of my natural life.
However short that may be.
© swissterrace 2023
I really liked this Pandora’s box of a poem. So briefly and cleverly written and yet so much hidden away inside. The key is the word sanotonin, but I would hesitate at using it to unlock secrets.
Hi, thanks for your comment…there is an interesting Youtube of George Harrison on the Dick Cavatt show in 1970 and the influence of LSD on The Beatles. Disclaimer: I am not encouraging use of illegal substances to support creativity.
A beautifully created poem, ST. But I do feel that you do GPs a dis-service! They try to do the best and eventually get worn down, as we all do.