Blots

Coloured ink-imagery on a card.
Answers 'scored', then filed
in that black, unlabelled
drawer,
cadaver for psychiatric
testing;
white-papered academia of flimsy
findings.

Positivity in white
coats
clash openly with steely, dead
eyes
harvesting gory innards from their
wards.
'No wrong answers', the voice
drones.
'What do you see?'
Silvercross pen taps edgily on flaked table
top.
There is a route through the
maze to freedom.
Individuality outwardly encouraged but
not
welcomed.

Blots

Dare not verbalise what your eyes
process
viewing Richard of York rainbow
battles.
Refrain from affirmations of
angular swords or restrictive grips.
See only harmonious stripes of pink;
sunflower happiness

Consider the locked dark box
into which your soul they would
constrict.

Your long term prognosis strictly
predicated,
by feeling intensely all which you
see
while allowing 'them' hear what their
rules demand.