the longest train whistle I've ever heard

I'm pleased by the reflection of the fleshy succulent in the brown mug stretching from the windowsill into the sun 

All my feelings are pathologies

 

Without limerence, what's left 

It's been a long day and I need to retreat 

sitting on the big blue chair in the back room upstairs 

silken pajama pants and a loose, long-sleeved shirt 

I'm sick again 

a condition of cognitive obsession

I'm only just starting to come to grips with what it means 

Is all angst merely chemistry? 

Compulsion, obsession, and lack of control 

I feel more clear-headed than I, perhaps, ever have 

This is sad; this was a mistake; that wasn't okay; this is hard; this is perverse; I was struggling so much more than I knew

The thing about masking is it also obscures you from yourself

mirrors offer only a distorted reflection  

Now I see suffering. And also wisdom 

So much of what was presented to me as spirituality was poison 

I was susceptible because I was sick 

All my distortions were subliminal  

What I'm trying to say is 

This may be caused by low levels of serotonin in the brain