Diagnosis Is Disguise
I carry these things –
these things are my thoughts –
and give them all names.
Suddenly they become solid,
then over time, become lodged.
Deep in my bones a pain in my joints,
a dark patch of skin, a strange spot on the tongue.
I give them names, and they give me names back.
They give me names that I don’t want.
But these things must exist, since I feel them this way.
Diagnosis is disguise for what really lies
underneath it all.
The subconscious crawl away from the truth
just to avoid pain is what really hurts,
and is all what will remain until crawling ends
and embracing begins of life as it is,
not as could have been.