On the Couch

That’s it. Change the rhythm.

I don’t want to come too soon.

You constantly relive the fundamental trauma.

Don’t you point your index finger at me!

I’m not your fucking pupil!

I’ve been through six years of analysis.

I know myself.

Really? Smug bastard.

God planned. Your unconscious decides it.

Another reason.

You don’t expect me to believe it, do you? []

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