Slammed & Split

Second Opinion

Don't know what I'm thinking
or why I'm blinking
in the face of the staring contest
that rose out of the mist
of foggy situations,
which could clear up
or settle in,
leaving me lurking
in the murky,
ephemeral, intagible
shadow of life.
See, I took a stab at love,
& love twisted the knife.

I've got mass complications
or a misdiagnosis.
I keep asking around,
but nobody knows this.
They call it lovesick —
where's my second opinion?
I need reassurance I'm not believing a thin one.

Research is necessary,
just help me out, doc.
This chick stole my heart
Stat! Get me to post-op.

I can't handle confusion,
maybe it's Münchausen's Syndrome.
A whole blood transfusion
could renew & then some.
Restore some sense,
& to my mind will come
good thoughts — only good —
there'll be no thought to stray.

But until then,
when they ask,
I've got nothing to say.