cycology

round and round…/my mind spins in the dreadful circle/ that is tortured thought/and I cannot find my way out of its whirling wonderings/aimless meanderings into/”how could u have done this”/”how could I have allowed that”/”negro who the fuck was that?!!!”/and I go to the psycologist to predict/where this cycology would conclude/and all she can tell me is/wait for the healing/pray for a time of unfeeling/for it will come/again for you/remember?/but I am yet unconvinced../even tho I remember the feeling of not too long ago freedom of heart/all I can see now/is my now state of cycological chaos/and I pray God for release/that time in the night when /sleep mocks me/and I am traumatized by the twittering sound of the children awake in my head/at play with the dreams that should calm them into quietude/yet I send another supplication/to the God of my father/approve my application/for the peace you boasted only You could give/and throwing the Book at Him/He cannot but see my misery/and pity His wayward child …that is me/and again He delivers me…/from the cycology of my own making/I know that tomorrow it will be better.