Pseudo-Psychoanalysis
Dear Mr. Bernard Pottier,
You question your progress.
Review of my endless note-taking reveals intricate complications:
Persistent blame of your father’s fleeing;
clashing emotions of triumph and despair,
both of which satisfy your Ego and Super-Ego.
Your mother grew attached.
Oedipus illustrations doodle on my pad as you laid back.
I told you before to stop scratching your eyes, son.
On the plush purple sofa, you float out of your mind.
Unconscious you wish to claim,
but your ID is on vacay.
Speak of your lover, but an ‘F’ slip, slips.
Reverting you back to your mother.
The subconscious alludes to your sexuality.
Transference continues to deny you of actual love.
Release your mother’s hold; it impedes your phallic development.
Your dreams hold your impulse captive.
Punch your super ego in the face.
Free your desires,
let them plummet straight out of your Id
Dive into your libido, and accept your truth.
Bernard Pottier, it is safe to say, my son, that you are gay.
Yours Truly,
Dr. Sigmund Freud
