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.