I have a problem
Who do I speak to about it?
Do I speak to my lawyer
or my doctor or maybe my priest?
I love love
I love to dwell on love
I love to see folks in love
Yet when I speak
I talk about war
death and destruction
My dreams are riotous
and my lurid fantasies are best
when associated with strain,
stress and trepidation
Yet I do not love misery, sorrow or woes
Who do I talk to?
Shall I then retreat into
reclusive solitude
for the avoidance of the perpetuation
of my conflictual id and ego
on the love and mirth that surround me
It is sad, oh so so sad
For I know my worst enemy
It is I
