Part One:

The invisible hands of the old man clock ticked away,
As she twisted a thick gold band around white knobby fingers,
Her radioactive green eyes trying to pry into the abyss,
Of my mind,
She purses her lips,
Disgruntled,
Trying to interpret the vacancy of my face,
Still and patient,
I wait for her calculated observation,
Thick white paper crinkles beneath her yellow stained finger nails,
The lamp set off an eerie glow in the room,
Her ratty brown hair hung loosely above her shoulders,
My legs impatiently twitch beneath me,
“You’re depressed…You are too stressed out”
She finally says in an unexpectedly calm voice,
I can’t hear her,
For dissociation has already taken me far away,
She waits for my response,
An hour almost gone,
My vision finally starts to return,
My brains way of saying “f*** you” to her,
The invisible hands strike 2:45,
I stand to leave,
Hands wrist deep in my pockets,
The paper of her skin tightens across her face,
An hour wasted,
I shuffle towards the door,
Wondering once again why I’m even here,
As I turn the silver lock to make my leave.

Part Two:

I watched as spiders fell from her mouth as she spoke,
One hour,
A torrent of faces smashing against the inside of my skull,
My stomach felt like a gaping hole,
Her flashing radioactive eyes embedded in my mind,
Knuckles white,
Heart shaking,
against the inside of my ribs,
Thirty minutes,
Memories come in waves of sensation,
Scattered scrabble pieces of vision,
A blurry palm tree,
Ripped box of crayons,
and a floating head with glass eyes,
Her voice is calm,
But the hairs at the back of my neck prick right up,
"This is only the beginning" ,
Velvet against the back of my hand,
Ten minutes,
Pins are stabbing the tips of my fingers,
A buzzing radiator irritates my left ear,
My feet are dancing under me,
Eyes still level with the wrinkles on her forehead,
Five minutes,
I stand slowly,
Uneasy on my feet,
Wondering,
Why aren't her eyes radioactive anymore?