Such a therapist

I play games in my mind -- behind papers never
Written about the tired person I am --

She's trying to praise my grief
On papers gone to early retirement
On shelves of book stores
Where the bourgeois are the first clients to borrow
The fairy tale that's posted in Friday's edition of a
Leftist Magazine

She's trying to decorate me with
A lower analogy of R.I.P. poets
Who produced the best comedies
Of their life
By blank papers and faked orgasm
And ending
As their own hangmen

But She, She must be warned! It's a static position!
<<A woman who gets lost,
Lost
In translation >>
Will never be tested twice
Not in this scenario