Psyche Slave

This can be whatever you interpret it to be. It does, however, go with a set of poems I'm putting together for my novel, a psychological horror story full of creepy possessed shrinks and people plagued by things both real and unreal.

You've got my mind
You've got my mind and you won't let go
You don't say why but I need to know

I'm your worry beads, darling
All your pain rubs off on me
Eroded down to craggy smiles
A psychological killing spree

Unearthly umbilical cords connect
To cheerfully deplete any peace
I try so hard to cultivate
Pale and placid, I suffocate

Bleed it all out, darling
Through the holes we've drilled in you
You're a slave to your psyche
We opened every lock and drew
Pictures of your wretched past
Depraved acts, why so aghast?
This is all you are

The flies will crawl inside your ears
And whisper about god
And you won't be able to make out the words

To them, god is the unprotected flesh
The teeming cadaver
The larvae hatching in spring
Their kisses sting

You're our little voodoo doll, darling
Every pinprick gets us high
We love to make you squirm
And soon you'll learn
Why this treatment never ends
So we'll pretend
We'll dress you up for the party
You're our little voodoo doll, darling

I'm insane and so are you
Our blood mingles like flower dew
We're in serotonin shackles
And dopamine dungeons
Free me? But I'm your prisoner
And the Warden's love is better than none
You've won

We've got your mind
We've got your mind and we won't let go
And you, my friend, will help us grow

The End

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