九.

Psychology

It is a faceless creature you battle,
not with your hands and
not with your heart,
but with your mind.
A psychological battle, if you will,
where your eyes are the
tip of the spear. And the slick, invisible cord
connecting its head to its emotions - its pain and its joy...
that, you remind yourself,
is your target.

The cruelty of it all is addicting,
contagious.
You've been sitting in that
dank office for so long, listening as they whine about
their pitiful lives, nodding and smiling at exuberant tales of
miraculous comebacks, patting their backs
and holding the tissue box... feeling your eyebrows
nearly positioned in a concerned arch on your forehead.

The faceless creature is spewing
another rendition of the same,
mechanical story.
Like a video game, there is a goal,
and you are ready to pounce on it.

It is a puppet in your hands
as you tug a few heartstrings,
pull a few tissues, pat a few pats...
You know every single word
before it's said. It's all so predictable in this office of yours,
where Nobody Understands! but you.

Minds, these luxurious facets of intellect -
theirs are malleable and prone to disfigurement,
but yours is hard and clear as crystal.
You plug into them and read them like books.
Ah, the shelves are full of them.

This one is a new volume as it steps out of the
counseling seat,
thanks you will bleary eyes
and stumbles out.

Once again, success -
with just your eyes and ears as your mouth piece
and your mind
as the weapon.